Project: Evolution
by Pardus Ardens
Summary: Life is about to change radically for a pair of rabble-rousers from another reality, faced with a fantastic new world and a new life. What impact will these rough-edged newcomers have on the community at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters?
1. Highway 01: A Fresh Start

Highway 01

A Fresh Start

Professor Charles Xavier scowled, his brow knit in a blend of concern, concentration, and curiosity. Something very unusual was taking place, and at quite an inopportune moment. He continued trying to focus through the strange interference which served to render Cerebro practically useless.

The day had begun uneventfully as a quiet Saturday morning, much like any other. Saturday, however, was by no means a day for relaxation at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters; rather, it was a day when Xavier's students were free from Bayville High and available for the unique extracurricular activities provided at the Institute. Scott, Kurt, and Bobby had been scheduled for practice in the Danger Room—a full dress rehearsal, as it were, in their identities as Cyclops, Nightcrawler, and Iceman—under Wolverine's observation, along with Rogue.

Rogue had never shown up for the session. Jean was available to fill in for her, so it didn't keep the others from getting through the exercise, but it did foul up Xavier's scheduling plan and generate some irritation and disappointment among the other students—it also showed a problematic attitude. Spyke had a bad habit of showing up late, sometimes making the exercises more difficult than they needed to be, but even Spyke had not actually been completely _absent _from a session yet.

"Where is she?" Wolverine had scowled when Xavier asked. "Damned if I know, Chuck. Hell, I was wondering the same thing. Ain't she supposed to be _here?_"

"She's probably sulking around someplace," Scott had added as he left the Danger Room, removing the visor he wore as Cyclops and replacing it with his customized sunglasses. "You want me to talk to her, Professor?"

"Actually, Scott," Xavier had replied, "I was going to ask Kurt to do that."

Scott had looked somewhat taken aback.

"Who, me?" Kurt had asked as he followed Scott out of the Danger Room, not bothering to activate the image inducer which would conceal his obvious mutant features—blue fur, pointed ears, three fingers, two toes, and a prehensile, pointed tail—and differentiate him from his alternate identity as Nightcrawler.

"Scott, I need you and Jean to help with a training exercise for the New Mutants," Xavier had explained. "And yes, Kurt, if you don't mind. Something must be troubling her, and she may be more responsive to someone a little less... authoritative."

"Less authoritative? I guess Kurt really _is _the right choice, then," Scott had smirked.

"Ja!" Kurt had grinned proudly. "Of course I'm se right—" he blinked and paused. "...HEY!"

By the end of the day, Kurt had spent quite a lot of time looking for Rogue all over the grounds of the Institute, but to no avail. He had surprised Kitty while she was doing homework, which resulted in her dropping through the floor and being less than pleased; he had interrupted a game of no-powers soccer outside, and decided to take a break after appearing with his head lined up perfectly in the ball's path; he had startled Wolverine in the midst of a workout, and he was sure only his superhuman reflexes saved his head from getting knocked off. He searched every quiet corner he knew: he searched the attic, he searched the halls, he searched the hangar and the X-Jet.

It was getting late in the afternoon when he had finally tried knocking at her door, and got no answer. After a moment's hesitation, he had teleported inside with a distinctive _BAMF_—only to find she wasn't there, either. There was, however, a tape cassette sitting on her pillow, which simply read, "play me."

"Um... Ah'm sorry if Ah made trouble for everyone," Rogue's voice had said, disembodied, from a pair of speakers, as Xavier and his X-Men listened. She had sounded troubled in the recording, but not as though she spoke under duress. "Ah just... Ah just needed to get some serious alone tahm—y'know, sort everythin' out. Ah figure there's no way Ah'd get out the door, if y'all knew Ah was goin'. Ah promise Ah'll be back in no tahm; y'all won't barely know Ah'm gone, so don't go worryin' about me, awright?"

It was a few hours later when Charles Xavier sat, connected to the unique supercomputer Cerebro, attempting to locate his missing student and wondering at the peculiar phenomenon which was a blight upon his efforts—it was like a psychic analogue to the crackling hiss of radio static. The potence of the interference had been steadily rising since he entered Cerebro. Although he would swear he had never experienced anything quite like it before, as it bore no resemblance to the ordered and deliberate sensation of an intentionally created obstruction, there was a certain undeniable, nagging familiarity.

Then Xavier understood in a flash of recognition the nature of the distracting psychic noise which plagued him. Of course! he realized. _This interference is very similar to the psychic wake of Jean's power surge; but this event is orders of magnitude greater in proportion. If such raw power is merely a byproduct of—_

Before the thought was complete, he was thrown from his wheelchair by a body-wracking spasm, and clutched his head with a sharp cry of sudden agony. The crackling sea of interference had surged without warning, and Cerebro's pattern intensification had made that surge into a tidal wave of psychic force; were Xavier's defenses not so exceptionally potent, his mind would certainly have shattered, a rickety beach-side shack smashed into splinters by the storm-maddened sea.

At the same moment, several stories above the subterranean chamber of Cerebro, Jean Grey staggered under the intangible weight of the same wave of psychic force. The crash of the bowl she had been holding served to rouse her partly from her daze. For a moment, she stared at the shattered bowl on the floor in front of her, and the mess of pasta in sauce.

_What on Earth was that?!_

"Hey, Jean? You okay?"

She jumped at the sound of Scott's voice, drawn fully from her reverie, and looked up to see him in the doorway.

"I swear," commented Kurt from over Scott's shoulder, appearing in a puff of smoke, "it wasn't my fault, this time!"

Jean shook her head to clear it.

"I think I am. It was like some kind of telepathic shockwave... I've never felt anything like it—at least not so powerful—but it's gone, now." She paused, staring at the mess which had moments earlier been en route to the dinner table; her brow furrowed slightly. "...where's the professor?"

Kurt began, "wasn't he going to look for Rogue—"

"—in Cerebro!" Scott finished with a note of concern, realizing why Jean had asked. "And if it that 'shockwave' felt strong to you up here, then with Cerebro boosting the signal—" Without hesitation, she rushed past them both on her way down to the underground complex below the mansion, and they turned to follow her hastily.

The three of them found Xavier on the floor with the Cerebro interface helmet beside him.

"Professor!" Kurt cried as he teleported to Xavier's side from the door and began to help him up as Jean and Scott rushed over.

Xavier sat up, slowly, with a groan and a wince. "Thank you, Kurt," he said quietly, as Scott stepped up to help him into his wheelchair.

"Are you all right, Professor?" asked Jean. "And what _was _that?"

"You felt it, too?" Xavier scowled at the throbbing ache resonating in his head. "I have never even heard of a mutant powerful enough to create a shockwave like that."

"You want us to check it out?" asked Scott.

Xavier paused in somber thought before he replied.

"Yes, we cannot ignore this. Please prepare yourselves to go. I will send Logan with you. I want to keep an eye on things with Cerebro. Even though you will have Logan with you, please take great care; there is clearly a force at work here more powerful than any we have faced before."

In the last eleven months, the fairly modest Hungry Wolves Gang had fallen apart almost completely, suffering the loss of three members and their leader.

In the last eleven minutes, life had only gotten worse for two of the three remaining Hungry Wolves.

Engines roared and pavement blurred beneath them as their bikes sped down the dark streets of the D-Zone, the outskirts of the old city where crippled and abandoned buildings still stood in the wake of the Great Terrorist Attack almost two decades earlier. With a screech of tires, the two bikes cornered and then swerved to narrowly evade an incomplete police blockade.

"_Kuso!_" growled the biker in the lead as their pursuit rounded the corner behind them, angry red light flickering off walls and signs from the roof of an otherwise unmarked black car—the very kind driven by shadowy government agents in every conspiracy movie ever made.

_These Stiffs must really wanna see our asses burn, he thought. They're really pullin' out all the fuckin' stops_. He banked deeply into another turn, glancing at his rearview to make sure the other bike was still close behind him, his untamed mop of black hair blowing about wildly without a helmet to restrain it.

"_Che!_" he cursed at the MIB sedan cornering behind his companion, and looked up from his rearview.

In front of him—the road, the buildings, the sky, everything more than about twenty feet ahead of him—was a wall of indistinct white.

A tangible fraction of a second passed before panic could take the place of amazement and confusion. Without a full thought, he braked and swerved into a deeply banked powerslide, both tires squealing loudly in protest, joined by the grinding scream of grating metal and the searing pain of pavement scraping through his jeans and biting into his leg. He struggled to keep control of the slide, even as he looked back toward the sound of his companion's cry of surprise and a _CRASH_; he only glimpsed her skid off the road and into a ditch near a telephone pole.

"Kinuko-kun!" he called out, wincing as his bike stopped. He climbed free it on and limped toward the other biker as quickly as he was able, struggling to ignore his bloodied leg.

He found her at the bottom of the ditch as he scrambled down the bank, clenching his jaw to bite back a cry of pain, and supplanting it with a growl. The back of Kinuko's bike was a disaster area, where it had struck the pole. Something wasn't right. She should know better than to skid into a pole like that.

"T- Tetsuo-kun..." she murmured, sprawled on the dirt and gravel bed of the ditch several feet from her bike. He rushed to her side, beat up sneakers skidding on the loose pebbles, and knelt by her side as her eyes flickered open. "_Nande—_ AAH!" she yelped as she tried to move her left arm, and clutched at her shoulder reflexively with her right hand.

Tetsuo winced at the awkward angle made by Kinuko's left shoulder—obviously, it was dislocated—and checked her over quickly for any other readily visible injuries. She was bleeding lightly from the side of her head, and her eyes focused unevenly. Otherwise, nothing looked broken, and that about summed up what he could take care of on his own in a ditch.

"Shit, Kinuko-kun," he replied in clipped, distinctly urban Japanese as he checked her for injury. "Idunno _what _th'fuck happened. _Hey_, keep still. Y'wrenched yer arm out pretty fuckin' good. That pole really kicked th'shit outta yer bike, too." He flashed her a wide grin, wild and endearing, but comforting; the last thing anyone needs when injured is to see someone else looking worried.

"C'mon," he added, "we gotta set this forya. Oi, bite down on yer jacket an' brace yerself."

Kinuko responded slowly, doing as told. Tetsuo waited a moment for her to get ready, and using the position of her other shoulder against the back of the ditch, adjusted the position of her left arm and shoved. The head of Kinuko's humerus slipped back into place with a muted _POP _and a muffled shriek as Kinuko clenched her jaw around the leather between her teeth so hard she felt nauseous.

"There, ain't that better?"

Kinuko glared up at him a little less than coherently, and muttered something indistinct into her jacket sleeve as she slowly pulled it out, the teeth marks evident. Tetsuo decided he didn't really need to know just what she said.

_'least she's together enough to get pissed off_, he thought.

"C'mon, Kinuko-kun" said Tetsuo, reaching to set his shoulder under her right arm and help her up. "We can't hang out inna ditch forever, ya know."

She let him help her up without protest, but once she was on her feet, she pulled away, wobbling slightly. "I can _walk_, Tetsuo-kun," she replied, her own Japanese clearer but no less urban. "You're the one with the busted leg." She paused to leer at it uneasily. "Speaking of that, you sure you're okay?"

He glanced at his leg and scratched the back of his head. It wouldn't look so bad after it got cleaned up; he figured he could expect to be shedding the scar by the end of summer. Tetsuo shook his head and grinned enthusiastically.

"Bah. That ain't nuthin', Kinuko-kun! Just a li'l road rash. Y'oughtta worry 'bout my _jeans _more... shit, man, an' I just got'em really worn in like a couple'a months ago."

"Yeah, well." She eyed the shallow but ragged-looking wound and the bloodied and tattered jeans, glossy black in the vague light from Kinuko's crippled motorcycle. "I guess it's not bleeding _too _bad, anyways."

"Hey, I said don't worry'bout it." He waved a hand as if brushing the topic away with it as Kinuko started to climb up out of the ditch, and he followed just to the side, careful of his injured leg.

The first thing they saw on cresting the bank of the ditch was the dazzling light of high beams. Kinuko reeled from the sudden bright glare and yelped when she staggered into Tetsuo with her tender left shoulder.

Doors banged shut, unseen beyond the headlights. Now that they were aware of it, they could hear the idling engine, previously masked by the bank of the ditch and the murmur of the wind through the trees. Kinuko glanced to the side at the unfamiliar sound, and stared briefly at the illuminated branches.

She glanced quickly toward the other side of the road as Tetsuo stood behind her where she half-slumped against him, glaring protectively toward the light and edging them within arm's reach of his bike, just in case.

She saw a gently rolling field on the other side of the road, beyond the roadside ditch she had skidded into. She couldn't help but stare at that, as well.

Every school child knew Tokyo city had been all but completely destroyed twice in about fifty years. There were practically no trees within miles of the city, and certainly no forests or open fields—any which survived the bombs had been cleared for new buildings.

"Tet— Tetsuo-kun." Kinuko stammered quietly, almost reluctantly, as if afraid of what his response might be. "Where the hell _are _we? There's trees here."

Tetsuo scowled into the light. _Great. Like this shit ain't weird enough already._

"That ain't all there is," he answered, quietly, "an' the trees ain't what we gotta worry'bout right now."

"Japanese?" said a male voice bodilessly, its source obscured in contrast to the bright light.

It said it in English.

_Well, 'least it ain't the Stiffs_, Tetsuo thought; but he remained just as tense as he had been, only in part to better support Kinuko's unbalanced weight as her head spun with disorientation. He already guessed from the uneven dilation of her irises that she had at least a mild concussion, and the growing impossibilities could only be making things worse for her.

"Uh... yo. You mind shuttin' those damn things off a'ready?" Tetsuo said in mildly accented English far better than his rather abridged education would have suggested, but just as clipped as his Japanese; Hideo, the childhood friend who had introduced him to the Hungry Wolves in the first place was an Ameriphile and Anglophile of the highest order, and had taken it upon himself to train Tetsuo.

After a brief pause, the lights turned off. As Tetsuo's vision recovered from the glare of high beams, he could see the large van to which they belonged. Someone largely obscured by the windshield still sat behind the wheel, and a figure stood to either side of the vehicle dressed in tight-fitting outfits like something from an American comic book, visible by indirect light from the two motorcycles. The one on the left had a yellow X across his chest over his dark jumpsuit and wore a visor, and the other was a woman wearing a dark jumpsuit with a light green patch at the front.

"Yah, thanks." Tetsuo rested a hand near the length of pipe he kept slung onto his bike and eyed the costumed newcomers, making no attempt to conceal his wariness; Kinuko watched them as well, although she seemed more and more in a daze, and didn't glower at them half as much as she would have liked. "Look, we ain't lookin' ta bust up yer costume party, or tryin'a start shit or anythin', so we're just gonna hit th'road."

The young man—probably a couple years older than Tetsuo—wearing the visor stepped forward, but moved slowly and with his hands open. "Hey, wait a minute," he said in the voice which had spoken before the headlights were switched off. "You're injured, and your friend's not looking so good, there, either. We can help—patch you up, and give you a place to stay."

Tetsuo hesitated. The guy with the visor sounded sincere enough, but Tetsuo still knew better than to take candy from strangers in funny costumes, much less hospitality and medical attention. "That's great, an' all, but we really gotta get goin'."

"Ach, it's se vild sreads, isn't it?"

Tetsuo glanced over his shoulder at the voice from behind him, and saw The Devil crouching beside his bike—the image seemed perfect in the semidark, with pupilless eyes, a pointed tail, dark skin, a digitigrade stance, and the vague scent of brimstone.

Tetsuo did just what he was sure any sensible individual would do.

He grasped the length of one-inch steel pipe close by his hand and swung it at The Devil's head.

"Ve don't alvays vear—" The Devil was saying. He ducked narrowly under Tetsuo's swing and yelped in surprise, eyes wide, then sprang away lightly as Tetsuo swung again. Without his support, Kinuko stumbled forward, staggering dizzily.

"Vatch it vis zat!" cried The Devil plaintively in his German accent. Tetsuo had to admit The Devil sure didn't _sound _quite like he expected.

"Hey, kid," interrupted a gruff voice from the direction of the van. "Cut that out."

Tetsuo spun reflexively on hearing someone behind him, and swung the pipe in a downward arc.

The pipe didn't go as far as he had planned, as it came down on a set of three mirror-polished blades which cut into it like butter. The pipe rested, impaled, against the knuckles of an orange glove from the back of which the blades extended. The glove was worn by a man who stood a couple inches shorter than Tetsuo; but he was built like a tank, and adorned in a black-and-orange costume with a decorative cowl. Tetsuo's first thought was that he looked like a colorful midget Batman.

The short but musclebound man scowled, giving the impression of someone who did that more often than not. "...take another swing at me, and that'll be your arm. Got it, _bub?_"

Tetsuo tensed in instinctive fear, but glared back stubbornly; he had learned years ago that the worst thing you can do is to let someone see where you're soft. "_Che_... yer invadin' my fuckin' space, Macho Man."

The claws jutting through Tetsuo's pipe retracted suddenly with a _snikt_, although the man didn't seem any less gruff. "You've got a real mouth on ya, don't ya, kid?"

Tetsuo was planning to respond cunningly with a comment about the man's age and decrepitnes when his attention was suddenly drawn away as Kinuko pitched forward and was caught by The Devil, who had appeared suddenly in place with a _BAMF _and a puff of smoke which stank of sulfur.

"K- Kinuko-kun!" He tried to surge forward to protect her, but the short man blocked him and lifted him off the ground easily by his jacket, ignoring his struggles.

The young woman in the jumpsuit—probably only a couple years older than Tetsuo, herself—stepped forward, looking concerned, the bright red of her hair more visible as she came nearer.

"Jean?" asked the young man with the visor.

The young woman identified as Jean touched a hand to the side of her head briefly, and then frowned. "She has a concussion... it isn't _too _serious—no lasting damage, at least—but she needs to be monitored, at least."

The other nodded and turned toward Tetsuo, who was still struggling uselessly. "Look. Your friend needs a safe bed and observation. We can give you someplace to rest and get a roof over your heads, and if you want to leave when you're up to it, we won't stop you. But your friend—"

"Kinuko." Tetsuo glared, not struggling so much except out of defiance. "_Kuso_... her name's Kinuko."

"And you're Tetsuo, right?" Jean asked.

"Yah. _Usuda Tetsuo da_."

"I'm Jean, like you heard," she continued, resting a hand on the arm of the young man with the visor. "This is Scott. You've already met Kurt"—The Devil nodded to Tetsuo, looking nonplussed—"And that's Logan, there. We're part of a group called the X-Men."

The short man called Logan set Tetsuo down again as he calmed. "It's a real pleasure, kid." He sounded less than entirely sincere.

"We're not here to hurt you. We want to help, honestly, if you'll let us. And I think you know that's exactly what Kinuko needs right now: _help_."

Tetsuo glanced around at them warily. "X-Men, huh? _Chekuso_. ...yeah, a'right. But if anythin' fucked up happens ta Kinuko-kun, I'm kickin' _all _yer asses." He paused to eye Logan warningly. "Startin' with _you_, Claws."

"Yeah, I'm quakin'," he answered sarcastically, and started for the ditch. "I'll go get the bikes. You kids climb in the van."

"You get _Kinuko's _bike, Claws," answered Tetsuo, stepping back to his own bike and swinging onto it with a wince at his skinned leg. "_I'm _takin' mine."

"Yeah, fine. Just make sure you keep up, bub." Logan climbed up out of the ditch again, carrying Kinuko's motorcycle, and set it inside the van as the other X-Men seated themselves. "I'll catch hell if I lose you out in the back roads," he added.

"Hah!" Tetsuo grinned back challengingly, starting up his bike and revving the engine. "I'monna be fallin' asleep if y'don't go fast enough, old man."

"No helmets," observed Jean, inside the van and outside Tetsuo's hearing.

"Yeah, I noticed," answered Scott. "And that Tetsuo kid tried to stare down Logan, too. They must be nuts."

"You're telling me," muttered Kurt, cradling the unconscious Kinuko.

Logan climbed into the van and shut the door. "You think we oughtta leave them out here in the road?"

Scott looked over to Logan, startled. "Hey, hey, I didn't mean—"

"Yeah, I know." Logan started the engine and pulled ahead to lead the way back to the Institute. "That kid was scared as hell. A good poker face doesn't change the way you _smell_."

"So vhat vas ze tough-guy act about?"

"You're askin' the wrong guy, Elf. _I_ don't have ta _act_."

Tetsuo followed after the dark van, glaring into the area illuminated by his bikes headlamp. _I know they're tellin' the truth 'bout Kinuko-kun, at least_, he thought. _An' I guess she does need some kind'a help, or somethin'. But this's still some really freaky shit._

They drove several miles before coming to the gates of a mansion which sat up on a hill with a sizeable estate surrounding it. There was a sign announcing the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Tetsuo skidded up alongside the van in a powerslide and stared up at the mansion. He imagined the mansion's owner as an old man with huge bushy eyebrows and a fu manchu moustache and a hand made of solid gold, planning to take over the world with his ultra hypno-ray.

Tetsuo shook his head and waited. After a moment, the gates opened and the van pulled through, starting up the long driveway. Tetsuo revved his engine, tearing out of the street and up the driveway, blasting past the van and taking advantage of the chance to enjoy some speed and get his mind off his troubles for a few seconds. He skidded to a stop once more just outside the main doors, waiting for the van to pull up.

"So this's the place?" he asked as the van stopped and the X-Men climbed out. "Nice digs."

"Yeah," Logan answered, straightforwardly. "Hey, Elf. Take these two down ta the infirmary. The Doc's out, so Jean, you go with 'em."

"Aye aye!" Kurt answered, stepping over to Tetsuo, a bit warily. "I vill bring you ze kvick vay, if you touch my arm."

Tetsuo eyed him suspiciously for a moment.

"_Che_," he cursed to himself. "Whatever y'say, Devilman." Reluctantly, he reached to touch Kurt's arm as instructed. Jean touched the other.

Kurt scowled in annoyance, but shook his head and said nothing but "hold on."

Everything changed and blurred, and in an instant, they were inside. The room they had appeared in looked, unsurprisingly, like a medical facility, and it made Tetsuo still more uncomfortable than he already was.

He had never been fond of hospitals.

It didn't help that it smelled of brimstone, now.

"Set her on one of the beds, Kurt," said Jean, stepping away from them to retrieve the medical supplies. "And you can sit down, Usud—"

"Oi. Just 'Tetsuo,'" he interrupted, hopping up onto one of the infirmary beds. He paused briefly to watch Kurt as he set Kinuko onto an infirmary bed of her own. "'I ain't so big on that formal kinda shit, if it's all th'same t'you, Red."

Jean scowled slightly at the language and the nickname, but shook her head and let it go. _I'm sure the Professor will have plenty to say about it, himself, if this guy can't adapt._

"I picked up on that," she answered, and set about cleaning and bandaging Tetsuo's wound. Kurt had already disappeared.

As she was finishing, a man entered the room. He was in a wheelchair—the automated kind with a joystick on the left armrest—he was bald, and he was dressed in a casual but sophisticated manner. His eyes were dark and serious, but his expression was benign as he looked to Tetsuo.

"Tetsuo, I presume?" he said.

Tetsuo blinked as he looked up. "Huh? Oh, yeah, that's the name."

"I am Professor Charles Xavier, the headmaster of this institute."

"Eeh? No shit?" Xavier raised an eyebrow, but Tetsuo continued, inhesitant. "Well, ya don't gotta worry. We ain't plannin' on hangin'round too long, so we're gonna be outta yer hair soon as Kinuko-kun's ready ta go."

Tetsuo paused, looking at Xavier's bald head.

"Uh. Y'know. Figure'a speech," he added."

"Is that so?" Xavier replied, chuckling quietly at the accidental joke at his expense. "Are the two of you—Kinuko and yourself—on your own, then?"

Tetsuo eyed him warily, searching for some betraying hint of malice, but finding none. "Yeah, pretty much—have been fer awhile, now. It ain't like we can't take care'a ourselves, ya know."

"Yes, I understand, and I don't mean to suggest otherwise. You come from Japan, I assume?" He continued after Tetsuo replied with a nod. "Your English is excellent. How did you come to be alone in New York?"

"New York, huh? Thought America got way more fucked up by th'War..."

"War?" Xavier paused, then glanced to Jean. "Thank you, Jean. That's all for now."

Jean looked up, then nodded, and headed out of the infirmary. She paused at the door and glanced back toward Tetsuo, smiling casually.

"Welcome to New York."

"Uh. Yeah, thanks," he answered, as she left.

Then he looked back to Xavier.

"So, what," Tetsuo asked, "you don't know'bout World War III, or sumthin'? Don't professors gotta know shit like that?"

_World War III? _Xavier puzzled. "Tell me, what year do you believe it is?"

"Eeh? Ch— Kinuko-kun's the one with'a concussion, ya know," Tetsuo groused. "An' it's 2037. 'bout the middle'a March."

"Well," answered Xavier. "It _is _quite close to the middle of March—today is the 19th, in fact."

Tetsuo blinked at that statement, and scowled.

"However," Xavier continued, "the _year _is 2002."

Tetsuo stared a moment; he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "That don't make no fuckin' sense. An' even if we _could'a _gone backwards thirty-five fuckin' years, y'still gotta know'bout the War. That was back in 1988."

Xavier sat back and clasped his hands in his lap. "Tell me about this war."

Tetsuo laughed and scratched at the back of his head. "Shit, man. I didn't get through fuckin' highschool, an' yer askin' me fer'a history lesson?"

Xavier smiled faintly. "Humor me."

"A'right, whatever. Th'War was back in '88, like I said, back in th'Cold War. Started off with Russia nukin' Tokyo, an' then America dropped their shit on Russia, an' ev'rybody totally nuked the shit outta each other. That's pretty much how th'story goes."

"I see." Xavier paused to collect his thoughts. "All I can tell you right now with certainty is that there was no nuclear war in 1988—not in our history, at least. Anyone you ask at the Institute or elsewhere will corroborate that; and before you ask, no: I don't think you are insane at all."

Tetsuo stared as Xavier answered his question before he could ask it—in fact, almost the very moment the idea had formed in his mind.

"I will ask you to stay here, at least for a short while, Tetsuo. At least until we can determine just how you came to be here and to know a different history than ours. There are some rules to follow, but I assure you, they are in your own best interests."

Tetsuo scowled and glanced aside, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," he said at length. "Yeah, a'right, fer now. If Kinuko-kun's okay with it when she wakes up, then yeah, a'right."

"Excellent. I'll have Kurt prepare find you some spare clothes and show you to a room."

"Eeh? Kurt... that's Devilman, right? Th'hell's up withat? An' what's with'at X-Men thing Red was talkin'about?"

"The X-Men are my students—Mutants trained to control their powers and use them responsibly."

"Uhh. Woa, woa, back up a sec there, Destro. Whaddayamean, 'mutants'?"

"I mean Mutants in the sense of human beings gifted with extraordinary abilities, such as myself. And Kinuko. And you."

Tetsuo laughed and scratched his head. "Oi. I think you got me confused with somebody else, Charlie. I ain't heard'a no Mutants, back in Neotokyo... but I guess this's like somekinda fucked up manga, or some shit like that; an' I guess after seein' Devilman back there, I know ya ain't makin' this shit up. But I know I ain't got no eyelasers or fireballs shootin' outta my ass or whatever else you guys do."

"Well," said Xavier, when Tetsuo had finished. "Nonetheless, your friend Kinuko will at least need to rest, and I suspect you do, as well. If she wakes during the night, I will see to it that she is given a room."

"Now y'mention it, I could do with crashin'out fer a while. Y'prolly got really kickass beds, too, by th'look'a this place. Oi, how'bout we talk'bout this 'rules' shit in th'mornin', ahright?"

"Fair enough," Xavier answered, smiling patiently. "Come to my office in the morning."

_How strange_, he thought to himself, showing in his expression none of the puzzlement he harbored. _Cerebro seemed to leave no doubt that both are Mutants. Is it possible they don't know, themselves, somehow?_


	2. Highway 02: Welcome Wagon

Highway 02

Welcome Wagon

"What the fuck?!"

Xavier sighed at the new student's reaction and language.

"Oi, oi, back up a sec, Charlie," Tetsuo continued his interruption, leaning forward in his seat. "Whaddaya**_mean_**, we gotta go ta school?"

"I mean exactly that, Tetsuo. And also, I'm afraid you'll have to work on moderating your language."

"Th'hell's that supposed ta mean?" he grumbled.

Jean sat off to the side, looking more than a little self-satisfied. "He means you can't go around cursing up a storm whenever you feel like it," she answered. "You'll have to learn to hold it in."

Tetsuo eyed her distastefully. "Yeah, great, thanks Red."

Jean rolled her eyes.

"Well. I suppose we will address that in due time. More importantly, as I was saying: yes, you **_will _**be required to attend school, as do **_all _**students at the Institute. I would like you both to stay, at least long enough for us to discover how you came to be here, and until Kinuko is completely well. We can take care of your lack of legal guardians, at least for as long as you both remain underage. We have here the resources to offer both of you the opportunity of a **_good life_**—a life in which you can do more than just 'get by'—**_if_** you give us that chance."

Tetsuo scowled and glanced toward Kinuko where she was sitting just a few feet away in one of the overstuffed chairs in Xavier's study. She scarcely looked any more pleased with the prospect than did Tetsuo—actually, she looked seriously uncomfortable.

"I am really not that bad," she answered, her English not as fluent yet as Tetsuo's, spoken haltingly and more thickly accented. "A little dizzy. A little... sore, still."

She paused.

"And my English..." she added, frustratedly, trailing off.

Xavier smiled benignly and shook his head. "Your English is by no means bad enough to keep you from attending school, Kinuko. Besides which, there really is no better way to improve it than to spend time with people who speak it on a daily basis. Even if you plan to leave soon, improving your English fluency would certainly be valuable to you, to say the least."

"I... yeah, I guess so," Kinuko muttered reluctantly.

_Shit_, thought Tetsuo, sinking into his own chair. _First the Stiffs, an' now school. We died an' went ta fuckin' Hell._

"**_Che_**... fine, fine, fine," he said, "we'll stick around an' do this school crap. Whatever y'say, Destro. But don't go thinkin' this's nuthin' permanent, a'right? We're just stickin'round 'till we decide it's time ta hit th'road again, got it?"

"Yes, yes, I understand," Xavier answered, soothingly; after years of knowing Logan, he was accustomed to gruff attitudes. "It isn't our policy to force anyone to stay, if the Institute doesn't suit him or her. I **_only _**ask that you give us a fair chance to convince you."

"Okay, okay, whatever. So when do we gotta start?"

"Actually, the school will be expecting your arrival today, which is why I asked for this early meeting. Scott can give you both a ride to—"

"Eeh? **_Today?_** Shit, man... **_che_**, okay, okay. An' nah, that's a'right," Tetsuo replied, brushing the offer away with a hand. "A couple'a scratches ain't gonna keep my bike from runnin' me where I gotta go. An' if you ain't sure I can drive, I got Claws fer a witness, last night."

Xavier raised an eyebrow, amused. "'Claws' being Logan, I suppose. Yes, well. How long have you been riding, exactly?"

Tetsuo's face lit up as he grinned with unabashed pride. "Since I was like ten—'bout six years, now. C'mon, Teach, I've prolly been outridin' pi— uh, cops longer'n Shades' been behind the wheel. I can take care'a myself an' Kinuko-kun jus' fine."

Jean had to stifle a laugh at Scott's expense.

"Promise we won't go runnin' off noplace but th'school," added Tetsuo. "Cross my heart an' short my wires, if I'm lyin', slash my tires."

Xavier sighed and smiled to himself, shaking his head.

"Very well," he said, "for the time being. But I absolutely **_will _**hold you to that promise, Tetsuo."

Tetsuo grinned and stood, saluting in a lackadaisical parody of military form. "Oi, I wouldn't have it no other way, Charlie."

"I will have the necessary school supplies made available for you in the livingroom before you leave," Xavier added as Kinuko stood slowly. "And both of you, please take care at school."

"You got it, Charlie," Tetsuo answered as he left the office with the uncharacterically taciturn Kinuko.

Jean sat back in her chair, looking to a thoughtful Xavier.

"You sure seem to let him get away with a lot, Professor."

"Do you think I'm being unfair, Jean?" he asked, glancing in her direction, but continued without an answer, anticipating her response. "Perhaps I do, but understand, he has a great deal of adjustment to make, far beyond simple culture shock. It has never been my policy to force my help upon anyone; and so long as his quirks don't cause too much trouble, **_and _**he takes responsibility for his actions, I believe we can afford to be patient with him."

Jean smiled to herself.

"He reminds you of Logan, too, doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't let Logan hear you saying that," Xavier answered, evasively and half-jokingly. "And I believe you ought to be getting ready for school, as well, Jean."

"That's another way of saying 'conversation closed,' right?" she asked, unresentfully, as she stood as started for the door; she had grown used to Xavier's habit of avoiding that sort of topic.

"I also have business I must tend to, on behalf of our two newest students. Oh, one more thing, Jean. Would you please ask the others to keep an eye on Tetsuo and Kinuko? I believe that more than anything, right now, they will need friends."

Jean smiled to herself and nodded her agreement.

"Sure thing, Professor. I'll talk to them."

It was pretty short notice.

Tetsuo and Kinuko had arrived late Saturday night. Sunday, they had some time to look around and get a feel for the Institute; although some places were still restricted, like the Danger Room. They were shown about the grounds, allowed some time to relax, and told a little about Kitty, Storm, and Beast—the remaining X-Men—who were out for the day, investigating reports of what might be another unidentified Mutant. At night, Xavier had said that he wanted to meet with the two new arrivals early Monday morning, and asked that they get some sleep and show up in a timely manner.

Nothing had come up about school until that meeting took place, and stacks of school supplies had seemingly materialized from thin air by the time Tetsuo and Kinuko were out of Xavier's office. In the course of a half hour meeting, they had somehow been transformed from footloose and fancy free bikers into students with homework and study to worry about.

Neither of them was looking forward to the rest of the day—nor, for that matter, were they looking forward to attending school once again. They had agreed to give Xavier and his Instutute a chance, at least, but there was no enthusiasm to it; that absence showed itself in the time it took them to prepare—in distraction and sluggishness.

Tetsuo was busy cramming school supplies into the rather limited cargo compartment of his bike when Scott and Kurt—the latter with his image inducer activated—stepped into the garage, headed for Scott's car. Kinuko was nearby, packing the rest of the supplies into one of the two backpacks they had been provided.

"Ready for your first day?" asked Scott, tossing his bag into the back seat.

"Eeh? Oh, hey Shades. Yah, really lookin' forward to it," Tetsuo answered sarcastically.

"Try not to take a sving at anyvon today," grumbled Kurt.

Tetsuo stared a moment. "Woa. That you, Devilman?"

Kurt crossed his arms and stared back sourly.

"Oi, oi, woa!" Tetsuo laughed and held his hands up, grinning sheepishly. "Chill out, Blues! Sorry'bout tryin'a clock ya, a'right? Ya kinda startled me an' shit, ya know? No harm done or nuthin', right?"

"Ja, vell, I suppose..." answered Kurt, still eyeing Tetsuo warily.

Kinuko continued stuffing the bookbag quietly, but more roughly.

Tetsuo scratched his head. "Yeah. So anyways. Guess we'll c'ya there, or somethin'."

"You sure you don't need a hand, there?" asked Scott, leaning against his car while Kurt climbed in.

Tetsuo crossed his arms and leaned against his bike as if in mimicry. "Nope. We're doin' fine, right Kinuko-kun?"

"Fine," she muttered.

"You got helmets?" continued Scott.

"Nope. You gotta helmet?" countered Tetsuo.

Scott scowled from behind his red sunglasses.

"What's that got to do with anything? I don't know about where you're from, but we've got rules around here. And one of them says you're wearing a helmet."

"**_Che_**... th'fuck crawled up **_your _**squeaky-tight ass, Shades? Idunno'bout you, but I do know I know howta keep my head off th'fuckin' pavement."

"First, it's **_Scott_**. And second, I'm just watching your back. Last I heard, your friend didn't—"

"Yah, whatever **_Scooter_**," interrupted Tetsuo, waving a hand as if physically swatting away Scott's objection. "Go watch yer own fuckin' back, an' get th'fuck off'a mine. Go on, get goin'. Y'wouldn't wanna be a fuckin' minnit late ta school, an' lose yer nose's parkin' spot up yer teachers' asses."

Kinuko kept packing, hiding a smirk.

Kurt only stared in astonishment; he hadn't heard anyone talk that way, especially not at the Institute, and especially not to Scott.

Scott, himself, tensed quietly and climbed into his car.

"Whatever you say, Usuda," he answered as he started the engine and pulled out of the garage. "Good luck with that attitude."

"Whatta fuckin' hardass," Tetsuo groused in Japanese, and contemplated the cargo space inside his bike's seat. It looked about as full as it was getting, and he closed it up.

"So. What's been eatin' **_you_**, Kinuko-kun?" he asked, looking up once more.

"Huh? What d'you mean?"

"Aww, c'mon. I've been ridin' with you like three years. You ain't always all quiet an' shit, an' I'm pretty sure it ain't yer head."

"Idunno, Tetsuo-kun," she answered, reluctantly.

"Oi, c'mon, spit it out."

Kinuko scowled at the bag, then sighed and zipped it shut.

"I don't like Xavier."

"Wha?" Tetsuo blinked. "Xavier?"

"I don't know," she sighed frustratedly, "okay? I just... I've just got a bad feeling."

"A bad feelin'?" Tetsuo echoed, and scratched his head. "He seems like'a pretty decent guy ta **_me_**, so far. I mean, even if he **_is _**kinduva stick in th'mud, he **_does _**sound like he wants ta help, an'—"

"**_Damnit_**, Tetsuo!" Kinuko glared with sudden ferocity, silencing Tetsuo with surprise, and clutching the backpack almost savagely—and then looked away, rubbing the side of her head.

"I just..." she murmured, haltingly. "I don't know why, okay? I just don't **_trust _**him."

Tetsuo hesitated, running a hand through his hair, and cussed under his breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, I getcha," he said, climbing onto his bike. "Oi, hop on, Kinuko-kun, an' let's hit th'road."

Quietly, she slipped on the straps of the backpack and held onto Tetsuo. The acceleration and squeal of tires came as soon as she had a firm grip, and the wind blew past them as they raced toward Bayville High, all but heedless of traffic and the speed limit.

"I don't like it."

"Scott..." Jean sighed, raising a hand to the side of her head and rubbing absently.

"Yeah, I know, we couldn't just leave them there," he finished for her, scowling behind his red-lensed sunglasses. "But I still don't like it. This Tetsuo joker has a dangerous attitude, Jean—a **_Brotherhood _**attitude. I don't doubt Professor Xavier has the best intentions, but have you seen the way the guy acts? I **_know _**you've heard how he talks; he's got a mouth like a train wreck."

Kurt sat off to the side, looking uncomfortable at the reminder of that morning's confrontation in the garage.

"A 'Brotherhood attitude?' So we're supposed to just give up on them, I guess?" asked Jean, crossing her arms. "You remember Rogue used to be with the Brotherhood, too, right? And I guess we should ask the Professor to send Logan over there, while we're at it, since he's still got a few rough edges."

"Whoa, whoa, I didn't say that!" Scott answered, holding his hands up defensively.

"What about Ray, Roberto, and the other kids at the institute?" she added, putting on a thoughtful look. "They don't always behave themselves too well... let's see, who **_else_**..."

"Okay! Okay, I get the point!"

"Do you **_really_**, Scott?" she asked, more seriously. "I can't deny that they've got problems, but that's exactly why they **_need _**the Institute. And I hope you aren't that eager to quit when things get tough—this is what being in charge is all about, right?"

"Jeez, I **_said _**I get it! And I never said anything about quitting, Jean. I'm just saying I don't like having to put up with whatever that kid feels like doing, okay? It's not like he's the only one around here who has a hard time, but that doesn't mean we can all do whatever pops in our heads, you know?"

"I know, Scott," she sighed, "but this is a special case... and the Professor has a reason to be so worried about them. They don't **_have_** anyone else here—in New York, in America, maybe not **_anywhere_**, from what he's said. They don't even have an orphanage or foster parents to turn to. And I don't think you **_really _**want to send them off to the Brotherhood, do you?"

Scott sat back, scowling, and clasped his hands behind his head.

"Ugh. I guess not. Oh well; maybe after a week of double sessions with Logan—you know, to catch up—Tetsuo might start to toe the line."

"**_Double sessions?_**" Kurt asked, paling, wide-eyed. "Ja, he might, if he can **_survive _**ze veek."

"Isn't that going just a little overboard?" added Jean.

"You think so?" smirked Scott. "How about I ask Tetsuo if he thinks **_he _**can handle it. I'm betting he'll jump at the chance."

Jean shook her head and sighed, standing. "I know it's difficult, Scott. But you don't have to lower yourself every time someone tries to pick a fight with you, either. At the end of the day, after all's said and done, you **_are _**on the same side."

"Why don't you tell him that?"

"You're right," she replied a bit icily as she walked away. "Maybe **_he'll _**actually pay attention."

"Hey! I was paying attention!" he called after her, with no answer. "Argh."

"So... vhat **_are _**ve going to do vis zem?" inquired Kurt.

"I guess we'll give them some time," Scott answered uneagerly. "But I'm definitely keeping an eye on that Tetsuo."

Kurt hesitated, glancing at the table.

"I sink she vas right—about Tetsuo, I mean."

"Huh?" Scott looked over toward Kurt.

"Vell, about giving him a chance, zat is... and zat ve should try not to fight vis him."

"We're talking about the same guy who tried to clock you with a pipe the other night, right?"

"Ah— ja, I know, I know. But I sink he vas just surprised, like he said he vas, you know? If zere really is... no von like us vhere zey are from, zen..." Kurt trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"But the Professor already said he thinks **_they _**are," Scott answered. "Although it does sound like they don't even know it, however weird that sounds."

He paused, watching Kurt for a moment, and then shook his head. "I'll try and turn the other cheek or something, okay? If he blows a gasket because I'm going on easy on him, though, I'm sending him to you and Jean."

Kurt looked up and smiled sheepishly. "Ja, I suppose I cannot argue vis zat..."

"Meanwhile, we've got something else to figure out."

"Ja? Vas is zat?"

"Pizza or burgers?"

Kinuko sat in homeroom (that limbo period of the day which was neither structured nor genuinely free), eyeing her schedule distastefully. It wasn't **_all _**bad: four of her six classes, she shared with Tetsuo, the one person there she really knew, and he could both keep her company and help translate when needed—although she would almost have preferred to join Tetsuo's Geometry class, the pride of being in the more advanced Algebra II soothed some of the discomfort of being in it "alone."

The best class she had was Mechanics—not only did she share it with Tetsuo, but it was something she was familiar with and knew she could enjoy and learn quickly.

The worst, which she dreaded, was ESL: English as a Second Language. She had never been terribly much of a people person, but the thought of that class only made her feel more foreign than she already did—more alien—more disconnected from her peers.

More alone.

She didn't look forward to Speech class, either—the thought that someone decided she needed to relearn how to **_speak _**only made her more conscious of her poor English and distinct accent. Tetsuo would be in that class with her, however—there to make her less alien and less foreign, by association.

Both of these dreaded classes would wait until the end of the day, however. The first class was Mechanics, and that at least went smoothly. It was an introductory class, so even though it was near the middle of the semester, Kinuko and Tetsuo had no trouble catching up—they had been, after a fashion, studying a very hands-on kind of mechanics all the time they were members of the Hungry Wolves. Their bikes had always needed of maintenance, to be kept at their peak performance, and Eiji—the leader of the Hungry Wolves and a jury-rigging genius—expected everyone to be able to take care of his (or her) own bike, intimately, forward and backward.

Afterward, she had Algebra II. It was an uneventful class going over material she still mostly remembered, and she could follow along well enough through the context of the mathematics—she had grown up on the standard mathematic notation using arabic numerals and roman letters for variables. Much of it was review, and the class proceeded with a slow enough pace and enough repetition that she could get through it with little trouble.

In Gym, she reunited with Tetsuo—although there were others there who they recognized, Kinuko and Tetsuo mostly kept to themselves, speaking Japanese. Kinuko quietly enjoyed the opportunity to converse in a language she felt relatively comfortable in, and letting someone else be the foreigner and the alien, just for awhile; it helped make up for the fact that she was by no means the most athletic member of the class, especially with official members of the X-Men present—Kurt was markedly more agile than Tetsuo, whom Kinuko had always thought of as practically being a gymnast.

The game of the day was soccer. Kinuko first had to learn to call it "soccer" instead of "football"—in America, "football" apparantly described a version of Rugby with heavy padding and more rules, which was ironic, since the ball was mostly carried or thrown. Tetsuo knew, but insisted on saying "football" instead of "soccer"; American Football, he called "Sissy Rugby." That was the first thing the instructor yelled at him for.

As they played, Kinuko's listlessness and Tetsuo's flamboyance and standoffishness set them apart, making them both less than popular on their impromptu team. Tetsuo got yelled at again—partly for mixing a capoeira-flavored set of moves into his playing, and partly for taunting the other players. Kinuko quietly enjoyed that, too, even when she had to talk him out of picking a fight with the teacher: even if everything else was changing, at least Tetsuo was still Tetsuo.

The game ended in the other team's favor, through better planning and better teamwork; Tetsuo was vexed but jovial as always as they all headed back inside, and he promised to see Kinuko at lunch. Unbeknownst to Kinuko, throughout the hour of Gym, Scott had kept a stern eye on Tetsuo, looking plainly displeased all the while.

"So how'zat high-falutin' math class'a yours goin'?" Tetsuo asked in Japanese, as he seat down across from Kinuko at her table outside the school building. He had a lunch tray with pizza and a cream soda, and he was grinning ear-to-ear.

"Wha?" Kinuko looked up from her lunch, which sat neglectedly intact before her. "Oh, Algebra... it's okay, I guess. I can keep up with it, if that's what you mean."

Tetsuo eyed his compatriot's lunch—it looked as though it might have been shuffled about, but there wasn't much missing—and scratched half-consciously at the back of his head.

"Oi, there sumthin' botherin' you, Kinuko-kun?"

"Bothering me?" She stared at him for a moment, as though surprised by the question; then she shook her head absently and looked down, nudging at her lunch with a fork. "Not really. I'm just not that hungry."

She paused.

"I guess I'm just not looking forward to the rest of my classes," she added, at length.

"Eeh? Ohyah," Tetsuo replied around the pizza he was already hungrilly digging in to. "You got stuck withat Speech thing, too, did'ncha. An' that ESL crap, like y'already don't speak no English."

"Yeah, I know. It's going to suck. A lot."

"Hey, it ain't gonna be **_that _**bad," he grinned. "Yer English ain't really that bad, so y'gotta head start, right?"

"I guess," Kinuko answered unenthusiastically, and nudged her lunch around on her plate as she fell silent.

_You just don't understand, Tetsuo-kun_, she thought to herself. But _how **can **you? Where were you ever the one who didn't fit in?_

"Hey, Kinuko-kun," Tetsuo began, scowling to himself, "y'ain't—"

He was interrupted by a hand clapping down onto his shoulder from behind him, and he glanced back, expecting to see Scott or Kurt—instead, he saw a tall, dark-haired student, smirking sinisterly.

"Well, isn't that something," he said. "Looks like we found the newest additions to the dork patrol, Toad. What a coincidence, huh?"

"Hah! And look, the new kid's even gone and got a drink for us," answered a voice from Tetsuo's other side. "Why don't ya just be smart and hand it over, new kid!"

Kinuko looked up from her lunch to see Tetsuo swatting away the hand on his shoulder. The one addressed as Toad was short and scrawny, with a pasty, almost greenish complexion.

"Che... ta start with, I never **_said _**y'can touch me, Biff. An' **_you_**"—he turned his head to scowl at Toad disdainfully—"keep yer fuckin' hands off'a my soda, Kermit."

"The name's **_Lance_**, kid," answered the tall one, pushing down on Tetsuo's head and mussing his hair with a grin.

"Leave him alone!" growled Kinuko, standing from her seat as Tetsuo struggled, grabbing at Lance's arm and trying to force it away.

"Ohh, I get it," Lance answered, laughing. "He's got a **_girlfriend _**here to take **_care _**of him, huh?"

"Hey, look! I'm keeping my hands off!" Toad cackled, and snapped his tongue out twice an arm's reach, snatching up Tetsuo's soda can in the midst of the commotion.

"I said, leave him **_ALONE!_**" shouted Kinuko, grabbing up the first thing she could get her hands on—her plate—and whipping it at Lance.

"Wha—" was all he could get out before Kinuko's plate smacked mashed-potato-first into his face, setting him stumbling backward.

Toad backed up slowly with his hands held up defensively and his tongue still wrapped around the soda can as Kinuko's eyes locked on him next, glaring balefully.

Tetsuo growled, scowling over his shoulder at Toad while Lance was occupied with a faceful of potato. "Che... you wanna soda, y'fuckin' freakjob? Fine! Y'can have **_this_**, too!"

He turned, grabbing up his lunch tray from the table, and whipped it at the retreating Toad like a frisbee.

Toad ducked the flying lunch tray narrowly, mockingly sticking his tongue out fully at Tetsuo—who kicked the can wrapped in the end of Toad's tongue, sending both crashing into Toad's face.

"Hahah!" Tetsuo grinned, bobbing lightly on the balls of his feet. "Eat biker wrath, Flytrap!"

"Grr... that's **_it!_**" Lance snarled as he recovered, raising a foot and stamping it down against the ground. "Why don't you take a **_seat_**, kid!"

Tetsuo was going to make a clever reply, but he forgot about it when the ground bucked and shivered under him, dropping him roughly and ungracefully into his seat once again—Kinuko staggered, too, grabbing hold of the table to keep from falling.

"Hah! Not so clever, **_now_**, are you, punk?" Lance grinned, raising his foot again, preaparing to create a more powerful, ground-rending seismic shockwave.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Alvers."

"Eh?" Lance paused, glancing to the side on being addressed by his surname—something only a few people were in the habit of doing.

Scott was one of them.

"How about you walk away nice and quiet," he said calmly, one hand holding his red-lensed sunglasses by the frame, "and take your 'friend' there with you."

Tetsuo glanced toward Scott as Lance froze briefly, weighing his options—Scott tilted his sunglasses slightly, as though cocking the hammer on a revolver. Lance glared at the interuption and made a scoffing sound, but started marching off.

"Yeah, fine, Summers," he said over his shoulder. "I've wasted enough time on you guys already. C'mon, Toad." Lance kept up his pace as he snagged his dazed comrade by the back of his shirt, casually dragging him away.

"You two okay?" Scott asked, walking to their table.

Tetsuo eyed Scott warily, getting up again and dusting himself off in a deliberately casual display. "Yah, we're fine, right Kinuko-kun?"

"Fine," she answered uneasily. "But what—"

"Is there some trouble?"

All three looked to see Principal Kelly approaching.

"There ain't nuthin' th'matter," answered Tetsuo, crossing his arms confrontationally.

"Well, that's not quite what **_I_** heard," the principal continued. "Actually, what I heard was something about a **_fight_**. Now, I know you haven't been here long, but this doesn't seem like a good way for the two of you to start out—" he glanced between Tetsuo and Kinuko "—getting into fights, like this."

Tetsuo tensed and bristled visibly. "**_Che_**... you—"

He paused, feeling a hand rest on his shoulder, and glanced back to find Scott there.

"I can back him up, Principal," Scott said from Tetsuo's side. "Alvers and Tolansky started it; Kinuko and Tetsuo were just protecting themselves from a couple of bullies."

"Is that right, Mister Summers?" he asked in reply—then he sighed and shook his head wearily. "Yes, well. I suppose I'll have to speak with them, then. But you should remember that fighting isn't the way to deal with problems; especially not here, at school."

Tetsuo glanced from Scott to Kelly, and then huffed, arms still crossed. "Yah. I'll try an' remember that," he answered, trying not to sound obviously sarcastic.

Tetsuo looked back to Scott once more as the principal left, and ran a hand through his hair. "So. Uh."

"Yeah," answered Scott.

"What—" started Kinuko, "what— who **_were _**they?"

Scott glanced around briefly to make sure the coast was relatively clear, then nodded to himself. "Todd Tolansky and Lance Alvers—or Toad and Avalanche. They're like us, except they're part of the Brotherhood; they're like some kind of gang of bullies. They live in this run-down house someplace out of the way, and spend their time making everyone's lives miserable."

"Brotherhood..." Kinuko repeated.

"The Brotherhood, uh?" Tetsuo echoed, scowling and glancing away in thought.

"Yeah," Scott answered, pausing briefly and scowling behind his sunglasses distastefully. "Uh... hey, look. About earlier today..."

Tetsuo glared off at the distant trees.

"Chekuso," he muttered, and paused briefly; glanced at Kinuko, and then back at the trees; and then reluctantly added, "thanks. Fer havin' our back, I mean, like y'said b'fore."

Scott nodded, after a moment's pause. "Hey, don't worry about it. I'm really **_not _**out to give you a hard time; but we've got rules, and you've got to learn to deal with them. People who can't handle rules... well, you just **_saw _**a couple of those."

Tetsuo stuck his hands into the pockets of his rather timeworn bombardier jacket, still looking off at something else uncomfortably. "Yah, well, **_I_** ain't so big on rules, neither." He paused in silence, and scuffed a tattered sneaker against the ground thoughtfully.

"But I s'pose if they ain't **_stupid _**rules," he added, "it ain't gonna be a problem."

"Same team," Scott answered, offering a hand. "Right."

Tetsuo glanced at Scott's hand—then flashed a grin and slapped it with his own. "Sure thing, Scooter."

"Rule number one: it's **_Scott_**."


	3. Highway 03: Kickstart My Heart

Highway 03

Kickstart My Heart

It didn't happen the way Tetsuo had always heard it happens. It wasn't really sudden—there was no **_wham_** involved—and he most certainly didn't "just know" when it struck, or for some time after.

But he did know from the first that she was a hell of a girl.

He was in the well-hated Speech class with Kinuko the first time he saw the girl, but she stood out easily; her hair was brown with a shock of stark white parted to either side, and her lipstick and eye shadow were a dark, cool shade. It was Wednesday, then, the first time he saw her in class—two days since he and Kinuko had started showing up at school—and he couldn't help but grin appreciatively at what he took to be a classic act of delinquency. She was cute, too, even if she had a goth look going on; but her voice was something else entirely.

"Y'all new heah?" was the first thing Tetsuo heard her say. It wasn't what he had expected, given her fashion sense—but moreover, Hideo's love of all things American had rubbed off on Tetsuo over the years, and nothing seemed more American to them than a classic southern accent.

"Eeh? Sure am," answered Tetsuo, feet kicked up on the desk in front of him as he leaned back in his chair recklessly despite the (ignored) warnings from the teacher. "Oi, whattabout you, Scarlet? We've been showin' here since Monday, an' I know if I'da seen you 'round, I'd remember for sure."

The grin he flashed didn't exactly make her swoon; she rested a hand on her hip briefly, eying him critically, then shook her head and sat down at a place which had been empty, not far from Tetsuo and Kinuko's seats near the back of the classroom.

"'least y'ah friendly," she answered dryly.

"Hellyah! Oi, so you gotta name, Belle?"

"It's Rogue," she replied, after a pause.

"Rogue, huh? Y'can call me Tetsuo," he countered, grinning again.

"Making new 'friends,' Tetsuo-kun?"

Tetsuo blinked at the sardonic tone and looked to see Kinuko setting her bag down tiredly; as the days had passed by, she looked increasingly worn—it was as though, for her, it had all been one long, uninterrupted day, continuing unbroken from morning to night to morning again.

"Eeh? What's**_at_** s'posedta mean?" he asked, scratching his head.

"Nothing," Kinuko answered almost gruffly, opening her bag and shuffling through it in search of her notes for class.

Tetsuo stared a moment in perplexity. "Uh... so yeah. Anyways, Kinuko-kun, this's Rogue. Oi, Rogue, this's Kinuko—we go way back."

"'Way back' is three years," Kinuko commented wryly, and Rogue smirked.

"Yah, yah, details," he answered, meaning to continue, but he was rudely interrupted by the beginning of class and the universally dreaded attention of the teacher, a mother-hen figure of a woman and a strict grammarian who lectured on the proper use of predicates and conjunctions and colloquialisms and other things which meant nothing in Tetsuo's world.

He knew he couldn't get himself in **_too_** much trouble if he and Kinuko were going to remain at the Institute, and his decision to stay for Kinuko's sake only made him that much more stubborn about it; that meant he was relegated to sitting back and watching and listening to get to know his new classmate until the end of class.

But at the end of class, she was already slipping out the door before he noticed.

"Didn't make trouble with your new girlfriend, I hope," taunted Kinuko.

Tetsuo blinked at that, and jammed his hands into his pockets. "Eh? **_Girlfriend?_** What, I can't talk to'a chick now without tryin'a put th'moves on'er?"

"If you call those 'moves,' I guess."

"_Che!_ I ain't Hideo-kun, ya know," Tetsuo groused, as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed out toward his bike.

"Yeah," Kinuko answered, grinning wanly, "I know. Bet she wouldn't have walked away from Hideo-kun."

"That's the trick, Tetsuo-kun. She's got to know **_you_** know she's interested, you get it?"

"Uhh." Tetsuo had stared blankly across the Neotokyo pizza shop table at his childhood friend Hideo, and scratched his head.

"Nareally," he had answered at length.

Even now that he was staying at the Institute, Tetsuo could remember clearly Hideo's exasperated slump of the shoulders, despite the years between him and that conversation—it had been just a short time before Tetsuo became a full member of the Hungry Wolves motorcycle gang, but a while yet before he had met Kinuko.

He remembered so clearly because every conversation with Hideo went in pretty much the same direction, making for familiar territory; and like every conversation with Hideo, that one had turned to women and his various, often sordid exploits involving them.

"Oi, doncha think it's gotta be ready yet?" Tetsuo had stalled uncomfortably, eying the pizza oven, longing silently for a tasty meal and liberation from whatever Hideo meant to instruct him on.

"Not a chance, man. When it's ready, they'll bring it, so you just sit tight and listen up. Pizza can wait—shit, even ridin' can wait—but you've **_gotta_** learn how to handle chicks, dude, or you'll be 'Tetsuo-chan,' the **_kid_** of the gang, forever." Hideo pantomimed quotes in the air, saying the name mockingly, and grinned as Tetsuo was predictably ruffled.

"Ch- shuttup, Hideo-kun!" Tetsuo glowered, reddening vaguely. "Shit, y'know I ain't a fuckin' **_kid!_**"

Hideo laughed out loud, clasping his hands casually behind his head. "It's so great the way you get pissed off, Tetsuo-kun. But you've **_still_** got to learn how to deal with chicks. ...well, I guess you don't **_have_** to, y'know, if you're—"

"Eeh— sh-**_shuttup!_**" Tetsuo stammered, glaring fiercely across the table.

"Bahahahaha! So classic!" Hideo cackled, leaning back in his seat. "So you admit you **_do_** have to learn about women, then! Admitting you've got a problem's the first step to fixing it, y'know, Tetsuo-kun."

"Th'hell d'**_you_** know 'bout admittin' y'gotta problem?" Tetsuo grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Well, I'd have to **_have_** a problem if I was gonna **_admit_** to it," Hideo answered with a grin. "Here, I'll show you exactly what I was talking about."

"Wha-" Tetsuo blinked, and then cringed in anticipation as the girl reached their table.

"Hey, thanks!" Hideo began as she stopped and leaned forward to set down the pizza. "Now doesn't that look tasty? Not to mention piping hot. And the pizza looks good, too."

She blinked in surprise, first, and then reddened at Hideo's winning smile—he had always had a sort of charisma extending to both genders, and even the teachers, Tetsuo remembered; and he reasoned that his friend must have been particularly handsome, as well, judging by the way girls acted around him.

Tetsuo wasted no time stuffing his face with pizza as soon as it became even remotely cool enough. A little burn, he had decided, was a worthwhile price to pay for keeping out of the conversation his friend was striking up. He paid as little attention as he could, and managed to get by with nothing more than vague nods in response to half-heard questions, the way he had learned to avoid small talk from his father years before, when—

"Man, Tetsuo-kun, you are **_never_** gonna learn anything, at this rate. Shit." Hideo shook his head disparagingly; the girl had already left their table, although she did glance back at them from time to time, always with a smile for Tetsuo's friend.

"Ah well," he added, flashing a grin at the girl and pocketing a slip of paper on which Tetsuo was sure from experience that her name and phone number would be written, destined like the others for Hideo's massive black book. "At least it wasn't a **_total_** loss."

"Yah, I know," Tetsuo answered. "This's a kickass pizza."

"You're hopeless, man. Hopeless."

"Yah, whatever. 'least I ain't always chasin' somebody's skirt."

"Your loss, Tetsuo-kun. And you can't avoid women **_forever_**."

There was really nothing good on.

Nothing like what he used to watch, in the old days.

The old days were when the gang was all together, and they had access to Hideo's video collection—Top Gun, Back to the Future, various James Bond movies, all things Anglophiliac.

Everything on the rack by the big TV at the institute was, ironically, made more recently than the films Tetsuo liked, and everything he'd found while channel surfing was dumb, boring, or both. He was raised on the remains of 80s America, from way back before World War III had crippled Hollywood as a culture-factory, and he wasn't sure he liked the direction it had taken, here, where the war never happened.

Tetsuo was still struggling with what kind of sense that side of the situation was supposed to make, too. Alternate realities and time travel were the kind of thing that happened in movies and in _manga_, not in real life. But there was no denying they were in New York, in America, and he still could not dream up a sensible explanation.

Not that he had given up on trying, of course—after all, Tetsuo was nothing if not stubborn. He was so deep in that line of thought, in fact, that he scarcely noticed the sound of the building's big front doors banging shut.

"**_You?_**" said a startled, half-familiar voice from behind the couch.

Tetsuo blinked out of his reverie and glanced back over his shoulder; then he stared. "Eeh- _nani?_ What're **_you_** doin' here?"

"Ah was wondrin' th'same thang 'bout **_you_**," Rogue answered, hands on her hips, covered by full arm-length black gloves. The surprising shock of white in her otherwise brown hair seemed almost accusing. "Ah know **_Ah_** nevah told ya how ta get heah."

"Yah, an' I didn't tell **_you_**, neither." Tetsuo scratched his head and grinned endearingly. "You ain't stalkin' me, areya, _'jouchan?_"

Rogue scowled unimpressedly, still standing arms akimbo. "**_Stalkin'_** ya? Ugh. How'd ya get **_in_** heah?"

"Garage door," he answered and thumbed toward it. "Butcha still ain't said whatcher doin' here."

"Ah **_live_** heah!"

Tetsuo blinked and stared.

"Eeh? Me an' Kinuko-kun got here Saturday night, an' I know **_I_** ain't seen you 'round here."

Rogue hesitated with a fleeting look of uncertainty—and then huffed indignantly, crossing her arms.

"Ah had ta leave Satuhday mawnin' ta take care'a sumthin'."

"Oi," Tetsuo grinned, "I **_totally_** getcha! Shit, I've only been here like a couple'a days, an' this place's so hardassed I a'ready wanna hit th'road."

"Ya 'get me,' do ya?" she answered, glowering. "That's funny, 'cause **_Ah_** don't think y'know me **_at awl_**."

"Eeh- woa, woa, chill out, _'jouchan!_" Tetsuo chuckled sheepishly, holding his hands up in a gesture of placation. "Y'ain't gotta get so fired up, y'know! I'm jus' sayin'—"

"Rogue?" piped a new voice, startlingly unaccented compared with the two it interrupted—Tetsuo picked out what sounded Californian to an ear familiar with English—and they both turned to its source.

"Rogue!" laughed the slim, bright-eyed girl as she half-jogged, half-bounced the distance between them and clasped a gloved hand. "You're all right! We were **_so_** worried about you!"

"Ah really am sorry, Kitty," she answered with an apologetic but slight smile.

"It's okay! I mean, as long as **_you're_** okay, **_it's_** okay!" The girl called Kitty paused briefly, looking uneasy, and lowered her voice warningly. "But, uhh, the Professor wants to talk to you, like . . . **_now_**. And he's totally **_not_** in Jolly Uncle Charlie mode."

"Yah," Rogue grimaced. "Ah guess Ah **_knew_** that was comin'."

_If she knows she's gonna get busted fer skippin' out a few days_, Tetsuo wondered quietly at the conversation between the girls, _why's she comin' **back** here?_

Rogue heaved a sigh. "Well, Ah maht as well go an' see him, right? Ain't no use tryin' ta put it off."

"Good luck, okay?" the girl answered with a slight smile.

"Eeh— **_oh_**, yah, good luck _'jouchan!_" Tetsuo grinned, snapping out of his reverie, and gave her a thumbs up. "If Destro givesya too much shit, just lemme know, an' I'll give'im a piece'a my mind."

"Um," Kitty murmured, leaning closer to Rogue and eying Tetsuo dubiously. "Who **_is_** that?"

Rogue smirked and shook her head. "That's Tetsuo. Ah'll leave you ta deal with 'im." With that, she patted the other girl's shoulder with a gloved hand and headed for Xavier's office.

"Wha- **_hey!_**" Kitty huffed, following after Rogue. "You might need moral support, y'know. And you can't just leave me with the weirdo!"

"C-che— **_oi!_**" Tetsuo called after the girls from the couch. "What's**_at_** sposed ta mean!"

"Well, well, look who's here."

The school bell rang at the end of classes that Thursday, like on all others, and students spilled out of the building under the pressure built up during the hours of simulated obedience spent in class.

Rogue stood in the quad with her arms crossed, glaring about at the three all too familiar faces gathered around her.

"An' whut all d'**_you_** want?"

"It's been awhile," the lanky, silver-haired Pietro, unofficial leader of the Brotherhood, continued with a casual smirk. "Hasn't it? We've gotta talk to you about those new punks hanging out with the Geek Patrol. Like just the other day, poor Toad there was trying to welcome them to our fine school, and look what he got for his trouble."

Toad seethed quietly, shoulders hunched, with an impressive black eye made all the more outstanding by the typical pastiness of his complexion.

"Poor Toad," Rogue echoed, much less than sincerely. She was more than well enough acquainted with the Brotherhood, and knew they would be asking for just about anything that happened to them; after all, she had been one of them—at least nominally.

"Nawt **_mah_** fawlt, though," she continued. "**_Is_** it."

"Hey, hey," Pietro chuckled, holding his hands up soothingly, "who said anything about it being your fault? We all know it's just between the Brotherhood and those new arrivals; but if your 'friends'"—and he pantomimed quotes in the air—"keep sticking their noses in it, they might get clipped."

Rogue glared, hackles raised that much more by the questioning of her friendship with the other X-Men. "Ah don't think Ah know what y'ah talkin' about. Ain't y'all gawt nuthin' bettah ta do?"

"Of course," Pietro continued, "if you don't want to cooperate, I'm sure we could work something out on our own; like exchanging you for the punks. You think your new 'friends' would even deliver, though?"

Rogue became very aware that three were enough to surround her, especially with the monumental Fred Dukes among them, and that she was by no means the ultimate combatant. Between Toad, Pietro, and Fred—the latter two Brotherhood members known appropriately also as Quicksilver and The Blob—she was outmatched respectively in maneuverability, speed, and brute strength. If she could exercise her ability to borrow their powers, she might have a chance, but making skin contact with a wary aggressor would take some luck.

Luck happened by just as the Brotherhood began to advance on her, and it arrived with a squeal of tires as the back end of a motorcycle swung into a surprised Toad and Pietro, sending them tumbling away.

"Oi!" Tetsuo grinned, obviously enjoying himself, "jump on, _'jouchan!_"

"What—" Rogue began to object, but changed her mind when she had to duck away from Fred's grasp.

"Hold on!" Tetsuo called back over his shoulder as she scrambled onto the bike, and she had to grab hold of his jacket with both hands to stay on when he opened the throttle.

"Wheah'd **_you_** drop in from!" Rogue shouted over the growing noise of the wind and engine.

"Eeh! I was just in th'area!" he laughed in response, and adjusted his right rearview mirror to grin back at her winningly. "Y'looked like y'needed a lift!"

"Yah, well," she answered warily. "I—"

"Going someplace special?" interrupted Pietro, smirking as he ran alongside the bike with his legs in an indistinct blur of motion.

"Ee- _n-**nande!**_" yelped Tetsuo, swerving and picking up speed, but Pietro easily kept his place alongside them.

"The Boys and I need to have some words with you, punk."

"**_Che!_**" Tetsuo growled. "Here's yer fuckin' words: kiss my fuckin' ass, Mrs. Dash!"

"You don't seem to get it, punk—" Pietro answered irately "—but you're **_about_** to!"

Tetsuo cursed and swerved again as Pietro made a grab for the motorcycle's handlebar. "Keep yer fuckin' hands off, Speedfreak!"

Rogue opened her eyes again, just realizing she had closed them when Tetsuo's wild maneuvers started; but she kept her tight grip on his bombardier jacket, not wanting an abrupt meeting with the pavement.

_This kid's out of his damn mind!_ she thought, wide-eyed. _I'd almost be better off with the Brother—_

"Ow!" she winced, looking down as something banged against her leg in mid-swerve. It was a length of metal pipe.

A light went on in her head.

"That the best you can do, punk!" laughed Pietro mockingly, legs pumping almost too fast to see. "Why don't you just- **_gwaugh!_**"

Tetsuo glanced sideways in time to see Rogue holding the steel pipe he kept in case of a fight, and thrusting it between Peitro's legs like a tough stick jammed between the spokes of a bicycle; also like a bicycle, Pietro went tumbling end-over-end into a hedge.

"Shit," Tetsuo laughed, turning onto a side road—gently, in consideration of Rogue's one-handed grip while she was putting the pipe away. "Yer a dangerous chick ta piss off, aincha Belle!"

"An' **_you_** need yuh mouth washed out with soap," she answered.

"Hahah! So while we're on th'road, y'wanna get summin'a eat? Since, y'know, I **_did_** save ya, back there!"

He grinned at her in the rearview, and she scoffed, "an **_Ah_** just saved **_you_**, so we'ah equal!"

"E-eeh! _Che._ Yah, ahright—so I'll pay!"

Rogue sighed and rolled her eyes. Getting to sit back and relax for a moment **_did_** sound like a good idea. "Awright, awright..."

"Great! Hang on tight, _'jouchan!_"

Tetsuo flashed his perennial grin again and opened the throttle, giving her just long enough to clutch his jacket before powersliding into a swerve, banked deeply as he dashed out onto a main rode. Rogue winced as they cut across traffic in front of a truck—which blared at them angrily—and sped off down the street at well over the speed limit.

"H-hey!" she hollered, halfway between a shriek and a growl, "you tryin' ta get us **_killed!_**"

"Oi, relax! Doncha trust me yet, _'jouchan!_"

"Ah'll trust ya when Ah'm standin' on solid ground!"

It was only a few minutes later when the bike screeched to a halt, powersliding neatly into a parking space in front of a small, quiet pizza shop. Rogue let out a breath when she realized she had been holding it. She lost no time releasing Tetsuo's jacket, and jumping off the bike.

"Y'ah **_crazy_**, ya know that?"

"Eeh? Aww, c'mon, _'jouchan!_" Tetsuo laughed as he shut down the motorcycle and swung off it. "We weren't goin' **_that_** fast. I'll showya some **_real_** drivin' on th'way **_back_**, aright?"

Rogue crossed her arms, eying him briefly before heading inside. "Thanks, sugah, but that was awl tha drahvin' Ah need ta **_see_**."

Tetsuo blinked and grinned dumbly, scratching at the back of his head as "_sugah_" echoed through his brain.

Rogue waited for him, holding the door.

"You comin' in?"

"Eeh- _che_, yah!" he laughed, jogging over. "Yah, hold up _'jouchan!_"

"What's that _jo-chan_'a yah's mean, anyways?" she asked, watching Tetsuo suspiciously as he stepped inside.

"Huh? Oh, uhh... 'sa real casual kinna way'a talkin' to a chick. 's like 'babe' or sumthin'. Oi, so whatcha wanna get, Belle?"

**_Babe,_**_ huh?_ Rogue thought, and shook her head. "Ahdunno. Ain't that often Ah come heah."

"How's burger an' black olives sound? 's what I'm gettin'."

"Awright, Ah suppose."

"Go on an' siddown, I'll be withya inna sec," Tetsuo beamed, and with a gesture toward the refrigerator full of beverages, he added, "an' grab yerself a drink or sumthin'."

"Ah'm all set, thanks," Rogue answered, and found a corner seat from which to contemplate her new fellow X-Man—at least he was in theory. She hadn't seen or heard about him being sent to the Danger Room yet for practice, or being involved in much else in terms of special X-Men activities. She hadn't seen or heard any hint of what his powers might be, and the same was that much more applicable to his strange, moody friend.

Really, they were both strange, and not quite like anyone Rogue had known. Kinuko seemed borderline clinically paranoid, and if Tetsuo's driving was a fair measure of his sanity, he was that much further over the deep end; but at the same time, Tetsuo **_did_** seem like a genuinely nice kid, and Rogue guessed he wouldn't be quite so close with Kinuko unless she was, too.

Of course, she knew she had not always been a great judge of character, and winced at the thought of it.

"Hey, y'aright?" Tetsuo asked, and Rogue glanced up to see him standing with the pizza.

"Yah," she answered, half-smiling. "Ah'm fahn. Just thinkin'."

"Y'sure?" he blinked, setting the pizza down. "Y'don't want nuthin'a drink?"

"Really, Ah'm fahn."

"Well, if y'say so," he answered, and sat across from her, wasting no time choosing himself a slice.

Rogue sat a moment in silence before she spoke up again.

"So ain't ya supposed ta weah a helmet?"

"Muh?" Tetsuo answered around half a mouthful. "Mph. Oh, yah. Shades was buggin' me 'bout that."

"Shades?"

"Yah, y'know. Scooter."

Rogue blinked and suppressed a smile as she took a slice of her own. "Y'mean Scott?"

"Yah, same thing. So like I was sayin', he was givin' me a hard time, but I think he understands, now: brainbuckets're fer newbies who can't keep their heads off th'pavement. Y'only wear'em if yer goin' ta war, an' there ain't nobody that hardcore 'round here."

Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Goin' ta war?"

"Yah. Y'know, like a turf war 'tween gangs. We mostly kept ta ourselves, but y'gotta be tough if somebody starts shit. Y'know, sleepin' giant, an' all that shit."

"Yah lost me ahready. 'We?'"

"What, ain't nobody toldja, _'jouchan?_" Tetsuo grinned proudly. "Me an' Kinuko, we were in the Hungry Wolves gang, back home in Neotokyo. An' I was just sayin', y'gotta scare all th'other gangs enough so they don't wanna pissya off, but not **_too_** much, or they'll team up ta clean ya out. They say some gang called th'Clowns went down by pushin' too far like that, back before it all blew up again."

"Blew up?" Rogue echoed, eying Tetsuo and beginning to wonder how much of his story she was ready to believe. "**_Again?_**"

"Charlie really ain't told you guys a lot, huh? Yah, back in 2019, they say some ter'rsits gotta leftover nuke from th'War an' blew up old Neotokyo. Didn't get locked up 'till '21."

"But what do yah mean **_again?_** Theah was only two cities hit with nukes in World War II, Ah thought."

"Yah, I know, but I'm talkin'bout World War III—'though I guess you guys dunno'bout that, or sumthin'. That was way back in, uh, '88, I think. 1988. Like July, I think. Anyways, Tokyo got blown ta shit, an' America thought Russia did it, so America bombed th'shit outta Russia, so Russia blasted th'shit outta America. So after all that was done, they came with the UN ta take over Tokyo, an' th'military was still fuckin'round in 2019. That's s'posedta be what those ter'rists were pickin' a fight about."

"Mah **_gawd_**, Tetsuo," she murmured. "Ya sound like y'all stepped out'a Mad Max."

"Eeh? Oh, yah, I guesso," he chuckled. "An' that's a pretty good flick, too."

Rogue shook her head. "Ah jus' don't undahstand how ya can be so laid back about it."

"Laid back? Idunno. Guess it's just what I'm usedta seein'. 'sides, y'can't get all caught up in worryin', y'know?"

"Yah," she smirked sarcastically, "Ah'd noticed ya don't worry too much when yuh drahvin', neithah."

"Ee- hahah!" Tetsuo laughed, scratching at the back of his head. "Hey, what can I say, huh? Guess I'm just used ta that, too."

"**_Used_** to it? Y'ain't **_that_** old, Tetsuo. When'd ya staht learnin'?"

"Uhh— like four, more like six years'go, I think."

"Say whut? Fahv yeahs ago, you would'a been what, ten?"

"Hah! Yeah, surprised th'shit outta Hideo-kun an' Eiji-kun how fast I picked it up. Same fer Kinuko-kun." He beamed at her proudly. "Guess we're both naturals."

Rogue shook her head. "Ah'm sure Logan's been rahdin' longer, an' Ah don't think even **_he_** drahves as crazy as **_you_**."

Tetsuo grinned sheepishly. "Oi, y'ain't gotta go sweet-talkin' me like this, but thanks."

"Ah ain't sweet-talkin' nobody, sugah," Rogue scowled, arms crossed, "Ah'm tellin' you ya drahve like a psychopath! An' ya don't know bettah than ta pick fights with th'Brothahood, neithah. Ain't you nevah been **_scared_** before?"

Tetsuo leaned back in his side of the booth and smirked, looking off to the side. "_Che!_ Idunno whatcher talkin'about, _'jouchan_."

Rogue leaned forward, elbows on the table, and smirked back. "Come on, a tough guy like you ain't afraid ta tell little me, raht? What's tha scariest thing that evah happened ta you?"

The change in Tetsuo was so profound and unexpected that only afterwards did Rogue realize his smirk and reclining posture had been the first sign of it. After she had pressed him, he became downright sullen, compared with his usual demeanor. For a long moment, the reaction stunned her, as well. She thought of documentaries and movies, and the way war veterans acted when stricken suddenly by the memory the things they had seen.

"Um," she finally started, to break the silence. "Ah'm sorry, Ah didn't mean—"

"_Kuso._ Don't worry'bout it," Tetsuo responded as she started to trail off. "I just don't think'bout it much. Livin' in th'street an' with all th'other gangs ta watch out for, y'don't go holdin' hands an' suckin' yer thumb an' sayin' yer scared a whole lot."

He had returned to his casual smirk and reestablished his air of arrogant self-possession, but Rogue could not quite forget the way he had looked, just for a moment, like he had been hit with a wrecking ball. He had, just for a moment, looked like an abandoned child: vulnerable.

"Anyways," he continued, finishing his last slice of pizza, "you wanna start headin' back, _'jouchan?_ 'less ya wanna go onna joy ride, a'course! You ain't been ridin' 'till you been ridin' with the cops tryin'a keep up!"

Tetsuo grinned that infectious grin, which Rogue resisted, crossing her arms.

"Ain't Ah already told ya Ah ain't lookin' forwahd ta gettin' killed, sugah? Well Ah ain't lookin' ta get arrested, **_eithah_**, awright?"

"Hahah! Well, aright," he answered as they stood and headed back out to the motorcycle, "but yer missin' out."

Tetsuo jumped onto the bike and started it up. When Rogue had not yet joined him, he glanced back over his shoulder to where she was still standing beside him, looking pensive.

"Oi, what's chafin' you, _'jouchan?_ Y'wanted'a head back, right?"

Rogue sighed and glanced back at the pizza shop. There was no one else in the lot, and street traffic was modest. She sat sidesaddle behind Tetsuo, who paused in confusion.

"Th'first tahm mah powahs showed up," she started in a low voice, just audible over the bike's engine, "Ah was at the school dance. Ah was dancin' with mah boyfriend Cody— an' he kissed me— an' all'a sudden, Ah wasn't just kissin' him, Ah **_was_** him. Ah knew ev'ry thought in his head, ev'rythin'; but not lahk Ah was in his head, but he was in **_mahn_.**"

Tetsuo blinked and looked back over his shoulder, listening, as she continued quietly.

"Next thing Ah knew, he was lyin' on th'floor with'is eyes awl blank, twitchin' an' gaspin' like'a epileptic. Ah was scared then, but when it happened a couple more tahms an' Ah stahted ta undahstand **_Ah_** was doin' it—**_that_** was tha worst."

"Oi," Tetsuo answered, scratching his head sheepishly. "So, uh— is'at— is'at whatcha do, then?"

"Ah touch anybody, Ah'll get their powahs an' memories, an' they'll get knocked out at **_best_**."

"_Cheee_— that's pretty fuckin' rough, _'jouchan_. 'though, uhh, I gotta say I ain't quite sure what madeja wanna tell me 'bout it."

"Ah guess Ah wanted ta make up for what Ah asked ya before, 'bout bein' scared. You ain't got ta covah up yah past heah, Tetsuo. That's a big paht of what tha Institute's awl **_about_**."

"_Ch-_" Tetsuo scoffed, facing forward again. "Idunno whatcher talkin'bout, _'jouchan!_ I ain't got nothin'a cover up, so ya really ain't gotta worry'bout it. Aright?"

"Tetsuo, Ah saw—" _I saw that look on your face_, she meant to say, but she trailed off, hesitant.

Tetsuo revved the engine. It sounded distinctly like the closing of a conversation.

"Oi, y'wanna hold on tight, _'jouchan!_"

_He sure can be a stubborn brat,_ Rogue thought to herself with a scowl, but reluctantly grabbed onto his jacket again. She **_did_** still need a way back to the Institute, and it was better than walking or waiting for another ride. _That'll teach me to worry over **you**._

The bike was moving as soon as she had a grip, and they swung out to merge into traffic with reckless grace. Rogue hovered between discomfort, irritation, and exhilaration as they picked up speed and ducked around sluggish cars which only barely exceeded the speed limit. It was hard to decide whether she wanted to smack Tetsuo, shake some sense into him, or laugh out loud; she had to admit, at least, that it really was exciting.

The bike might not have been able to compare with the Blackbird for speed, but being open to the wind and cutting so close to traffic, it almost **_felt_** like it could. She might even have grinned at the feeling of the wind rushing through her hair, if not for the nagging expectation of an abrupt, messy end.

Tetsuo had no such concerns.

He knew what he was doing, and he knew without a doubt that he was in control of his bike. Six years, he had been riding, and only Hideo surpassed him with skill—but even so, Tetsuo rivaled his teacher with a blend of agility, instinct, and luck to put any expert to the test. Clearly, there was nothing to worry about under any kind of normal circumstances.

Halfway back to the Institute, circumstances became anything but normal.

Tetsuo had just passed a car at more than double the speed limit when everything suddenly changed: he was riding the more familiar Highway 26 which came to a dead end at the edge of the crater which had once been the Old City. It was the dead of night, and the abandoned highway was pitch dark except for his bike's headlight.

Before he even realized the change of scenery, Tetsuo spotted someone standing in the middle of the road in strange pants and a jacket like a snowsuit—he had the stature of a little kid, with the wrinkled face and white hair of an old man, and a complexion so pale it was almost blue. The hand he raised to shield his eyes from Tetsuo's headlight was stamped on the palm with the number 26.

"**_Kuso!_**" Tetsuo yelped as he swerved sideways to shed speed and try to dodge around the bizarre pedestrian.

"Tetsuo!" cried a voice as everything became featureless white.

Only when he found himself off the edge of the wrong side of the road in New York did Tetsuo realize the voice he heard had come from Rogue, who was clutching him almost hard enough to hurt. In the same moment, shaking and gasping for breath, she let go and quickly staggered away from him.

"Wh- whut tha **_hell_** do ya think y'ah **_doin'_**!"

"_N-nan de ga—_" he stammered, clutching the handlebars.

"Ya really almost **_did_** get us killed! Ah you outta yuh **_mahnd_**!"

Tetsuo glanced at her tensely and bit back an acerbic reply.

"_K— kuso._ Guess you didn't see nuthin', then, huh."

"Damn raht Ah did," Rogue glared back, eyes wide with panic and one arm pointing down the road where the enraged New York horns were quieting down. "Ah saw that pickup truck ya neahly ran us undah!"

"I don't mean **_that_**, I mean th'fuckin' kid in the th'fuckin' road."

Rogue stared at him, taken aback. She started to look less angry and terrified than concerned. "A kid in tha road? Theah ain't nobody heah but us an' the traffic, Tetsuo."

Tetsuo looked around, quietly seething.

"Yah. Yah, it looks that way."

Rogue paused, watching him in a momentary silence as she caught her breath and regained some composure.

"Look," she started quietly, "Ah'm sorry Ah snapped at ya, Tetsuo—ya just scared tha almighty outta me, theah."

"_Che_, whatever," Tetsuo answered, still looking straight ahead. "I ain't a little kid, an' I guess you gotta right ta be pissed off. An' ya prolly think I'm outta my fuckin' head, or trippin' out on somethin'." Rogue started to shake her head, but there was not enough of a pause for her to object out loud.

"But I don't like th'feelin' that there's somebody fuckin' with my head," he continued, "or makin' me see shit that ain't there."

"Ya think it was telepathy?" Rogue murmured. "Ah don't think Ah know anyone but Jean an' tha Professah who can do anythin' lahk that, Tetsuo."

"_Che_. Whatever."

Rogue slowly stepped next to Tetsuo, and touched his shoulder. "Nahce save, though," she said.

Tetsuo glanced toward her and smirked halfheartedly.

"Yah. Thanks, _'jouchan_. You still trust me, or y'wanna take a cab?"

"Ah guess that depends on you an' all that experience you wuh talkin' about. Ya think you can still ride?"

Tetsuo finally let go of the handle bar and scratched at the back of his head with something close to his characteristic grin.

"Hey, I can **_always_** ride!"

Rogue climbed onto the bike once again, trying not to show her hesitation, and they were on the road again soon after—at something much nearer the speed limit.

Neither of them noticed a dark patch on the road, several feet wide, charred near to black.

It was identical to a charred patch left 18 years earlier on Neotokyo Highway 26, over the Old City.


	4. Highway 04: Bad Moon Rising

I don't usually do prefaces, but I wanted to toss in an apology for the long delay. Rough, rough semester. Hopefully I'll be able to finish up a bit more writing in the next couple weeks, and get a little work done during the upcoming, more literary semester… many thanks to those who're still reading!

Highway 04

Bad Moon Rising

Darkness.

There was darkness everywhere in the tunnel, clinging to the concrete walls and spilling down from the ceiling like an ethereal mist. It was a surreal, wretched darkness, the kind that conceals the suppressed memory of a past sin, and the sense of wrongness in those shadows was almost palpable.

It seemed to pool in corners and cracks, like some kind of ephemeral sludge. Kinuko avoided it, as she walked onward, toward the relative light in front and away from the pitch blackness behind her.

The corridor was bleak. Its cement construction was featureless in the purely ambient twilight, save for the spaces between the gray monoliths.

Somehow, its orderliness was dreadfully oppressive—wrong, even, like the shadows lurking in the hall's most remote edges.

It should have been smashed, she thought. It should have been crumbling and shattered under the weight of time and—

Time and Akira.

She didn't know what that meant, but she was absolutely sure of it. Time and Akira should have made ruins of it.

Kinuko's steps echoed as she left the darkness, stepping out onto the dais. The stadium stretched before her. She could see details all the way to the far end, but it seemed at the same time impossibly huge. Somehow, that was more troubling than the myriad corpses clamoring in the stands.

Some were terribly burned, some had parts of their bodies crushed, and some had been shot or torn open; there were figures emaciated from starvation, children riddled with bleeding holes, and drowned men still oozing filthy water from their noses and mouths; some were dressed as JSDF soldiers, some as businessmen and housewives, many as derelicts and punks. Their only obvious commonalities were that they had all died in Neotokyo in 2019, and that the entire horde of them radiated a field of bewilderment and forlornness so overwhelming Kinuko could feel its roiling pressure against her face.

She turned back to the corridor she had left. There was no open archway, but rather, she faced a burnished metal wall like the door of a bank vault. She had seen it once before, when she was shown around the Institute with Tetsuo.

Leaning forward, she let Cerebro's retinal scan explore her eye with laser light; she pressed her left hand to the hand-scan panel which was there, and after reading the 41 which had never before been imprinted on her palm, the massive steel door opened. It seemed to move reluctantly, like a steel prisoner on the way to its execution.

She thought it was trying to warn her.

A white plume of gelid air billowed out of the dark opening. Kinuko noticed that there were tubes, varying in thickness from a finger's to an arm's, leading out of the doorway. They were sheathed in frost and the breeze felt like a window had been opened to the middle of the arctic circle. She stepped into the cold twilight passageway.

As Kinuko walked down the corridors deep below the Xavier Institute mansion, the same darkness from before now clung to the corners and walls and ceiling. Red and yellow lights tried to flash and alarms tried to scream, but the darkness was drowning them all out, and it churned motionlessly in contradictory parody of the suppressed activity; the lights and alarms could only lend the ambient dusk and vague white noise a ruddy, buzzing oscillation.

People shied away from her—people she knew, although they were like distracted, flustered ghosts, not quite realizing that they did not exist. Although the people were indistinct and faceless, she knew they were the X-Men she had met, the Brotherhood, other students, teachers. They fled her with all the animation of a blitzed chameleon, and she made no attempt to pursue them.

She stepped into the infirmary. Someone had planted a tree in the middle of it and drawn strange figures of lines and curves on the floor; there were childishly fanciful pictures of space scenes on the walls and toys strewn about. Jean lay in a bed, helpless and visibly infirm, where Storm—one of Xavier's teachers at the Institute—and Kurt flanked her protectively, the former in a hovering chair. Kinuko was almost overcome by the sensation of her contempt for them.

Logan stepped between Kinuko and the others.

"**_Number 41!_**" Logan said. "Return to your quarters **_immediately!_**"

"**_Shut up!_**", Kinuko answered reflexively. "I don't take orders from you, and I'm not some stinkin' **_number!_**" She felt strangely like a dispassionate observer within her own body, impersonally aware of the surging hate filling her head.

"Number 41!" Logan's claws were extended. "This is the time I've been waiting for...!"

With one simple motion, those claws were slashing cleanly across Kinuko's face, and her vision went black. She noted with awed detachment how effortlessly the adamantium blades sliced through the bones of her skull.

Suddenly, she felt pain in the darkness, and in the company of abject terror, it cut into her brain just as easily as she remembered Logan's claws had. Kinuko sat huddled in the dark of her room at the Institute, gasping for breath and sobbing mutely with panic.

"3:41," glared her alarm clock's bright red numerals.

Only then did she realize that the pain was from knocking her head against the nightstand—that she had awakened with such a start she had flung herself from her bed.

The dreams were getting worse.

Kinuko sat in the cafeteria at school, and as she watched the hour hand of the clock crawling laggardly toward the "1," considered making Friday her new most hated day of the week.

She had grown used to sleepless nights, over the years, but the utterly unrestful sleep she had experienced in the last couple of days was something new, and the nightmares were the kind of thing she had thought she would never have to suffer through again.

That being the case, she found herself feeling as though at the end of her string when the day began, and it had only gone downhill from there.

She had got out of bed a little too abruptly at about a quarter of four in the morning, but three full hours of lying in bed and squirming were not enough to make her brave her dreams again, even when her headache had dulled and concentrated into a tender lump. Three hours of silent, passive, internal conflict between exhaustion and fear had only left her more worn out.

Finally, she had given up—the Institute was coming to life in earnest as 7 a.m. drew near—and sluggishly dressed, dragging herself downstairs. She had moved among the small throng of Xavier's other students as though halfway in a dream, and the breakfast she had made herself was thrown together so mechanically she drew a blank the rest of the day trying to remember what it had been. Not that she was preoccupied with her nightmare at that point; looking back, she could scarcely even guess where her mind had gone to on vacation.

But grogginess was not the only reason for her lack of detail—the other great contributors had been panic, followed by embarrassment. Vague and lackluster as her memories were about most of her morning, extending even to the usually exhilarating ride into school with Tetsuo, one thing was still making her skin crawl when she thought about it hours later.

She had been partway through eating her forgotten breakfast when it happened: Logan walked into the room.

"**_Kuso!_**" was the only thought Kinuko had after she registered his presence, and she expressed it, loudly. With neither hesitation nor forethought, she was scrambling backward at full speed as her ill-fated first meal of the day crashed and clattered to the floor. She scarcely would have noticed, save that everyone went quiet, looking between her and Logan as though straining to see an explanation written in the air or across their faces.

"What's eatin' **_you_**, kid?" Logan grunted. "Ain't never seen me in the mornin' before?"

"I— I—" Kinuko stammered and shook her head vigorously, although her eyes remained locked on Logan in dazed terror and defiance.

"I have to go!" she murmured hurriedly in English through conflicting urgency and embarrassment, and hurried for the garage before anyone could squeeze a comment into the confusion. She never found out who had cleaned up the mess she had left on the floor.

She was sitting in the cafeteria, remembering that inauspicious beginning of the day and trying to forget that she was only halfway through it, when she was shocked halfway out of her dazed state by a crash from several tables away. She sat perfectly still, with her back toward the source of the sound, hoping it would leave her alone.

"Alvers?" she heard from Scott, in a thinly-concealed tone of surprise. "There something I can do for you? If you're asking to join up again, you can try asking nicely."

"Yeah, right," answered the less familiar voice of the student who had come to harass her and Tetsuo on their first day, speaking in a hushed, private tone. At the sound of his voice, Kinuko discreetly pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt to make herself as invisible as she could, and listened with her eyes closed.

"Last thing you'll ever have to worry about," he continued quietly. "I'm **_here_** to tell you that new girl you guys picked up, that Japanese one, is a total grade-A **_psycho_**."

"If that's all you've got to say," Scott answered, "I'm busy. You know how it is. Lunch, and all."

"Hear me out, Summers!" Lance growled under his breath, keeping his voice low. Kinuko could almost taste the frustration bleeding off of him. "You don't like me. That's fine—I don't like you, either. But I'm tellin' you, she's gonna snap, and you'll be sorry you ever let her within fifty feet of a kitchen knife."

"Sure. But it's not your business anyway, right?"

Lance glared at Scott angrily; Kinuko wondered vaguely how she could tell while facing the other direction, with her eyes closed.

"Damnit, I'm **_serious!_** Whatever she did to Fred today had him about knocking down the walls to get away from her, and the way she was looking at me, I'd swear she was trying to— I don't know, damnit, trying to make my head explode, or something. And every time I saw her around, she was muttering about the cold, like she doesn't get that it's in the 80s. She's a nutjob, I'm telling you."

"Kitty?" Kinuko asked, glancing over her shoulder and staring at Lance. He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw her suddenly sitting there, just a few feet away.

"E- w- what?"

"You'a as'king becoss of Kitty?"

For a split second, Lance looked like he had been sucker punched; then he straightened and turned to walk away.

"Whatever! Don't listen to me if you don't want to, Summers, but it's **_your_** funeral if you keep hanging out with Carrie, there!"

"What a jerk," Scott muttered. He glanced at Kinuko, where she sat with her arms limp at her sides, looking worn thin as she gazed out from under her hood. The dark circles under her eyes seemed to be getting larger each day, and the Professor had secretly expressed some concern about her state of mind and lack of socialization.

"Uh, hey," he started, rubbing at the back of his neck absently. "You okay, there, Kinuko? Sorry about-"

"Yes," Kinuko answered, staring after Lance for a long, silent moment. Finally, in a soft voice as though speaking to herself, she added, "yes, I am fine. Don't be sorry; not for me."

Without another word, she stood and walked away, leaving Scott to stare after her in confusion.

Kinuko closed her locker and leaned against it, her shoulders resting heavily over the stenciled-on "41" which marked the metal door. The hall seemed to extend infinitely in both directions. A few dozen nearby had numbers—most were dilapidated, with busted latches, doors hanging half-open, peeling paint, rust spots, and all the signs of disuse, misuse, and neglect.

"Even with your eyes opened as wide as they will go," called a voice from nearby, "you cannot perceive something so large that it is beyond the range of your vision."

Kinuko looked toward the voice, and saw Xavier sitting in his chair in front of the locker marked "19."

"Men gather together," he continued, "as though they would reverse the cosmic stream, but in truth they are only driftwood."

"That stuff about streams and vision is just metaphysical bullshit!" Kinuko snapped in response, carried on a tidal wave of alien, psychotic frustration. "I want to know something concrete! What the hell is Akira!"

Around her, white frost billowed in the air like fluffy clouds. Kinuko watched Xavier dispassionately, feeling the lockers around them coat with ice as the cold spread out until Xavier was frozen solid like a statue. Kinuko turned and began walking down the frozen corridor, and ignored the sound of Xavier falling forward and shattering.

Even the air seemed to freeze around her. With every step forward, it pressed invasively close and then shattered into nothing, as though she was haunted by some noncommittal ghost.

Ugly but near-indestructible school carpeting, chilled into a state of fragility, crackled under Kinuko's feet as she walked. She could feel that the walls, covered in a sheen of frost, would shatter if struck. The whole world had become brittle, like the flower dipped in liquid nitrogen that every child sees in a science program on TV. With a thought, she could smash it all, bring it crashing down around her, end the pointless game.

She stood in front of a window, looking out at the city. Buildings leaned at odd angles with all the glass shattered out of them, looming threateningly over the debris-clogged streets far below.

It was like a picture of downtown Hell.

Kinuko stared out at the post-apocalyptic wasteland and let go a chuckle which grew slowly into mad, body-racking laughter.

The futility!

The meaninglessness of it all—of mankind's struggle to create and sustain order under the burden of the universe's Will to Entropy—was almost more than she could handle.

It was in mid-cackle that she saw it there: a perfect, round, unblemished moon hanging over the city—her city—**_Akira's_** city—looming proudly, daring to challenge her. With a wave of her arm as though dashing game pieces from a board, she threw open the red cape she now wore as symbol of her authority—of her apotheosis.

She would teach that damned moon a lesson.

Kinuko felt her will exert itself, and watched as the perfect white sphere shuddered; a huge crater covering a nearly a sixth of its profile appeared in the wake of a massive telekinetic explosion.

The earth heaved in sympathetic reaction, and the building in which Kinuko stood, frozen brittle like the carpet in the hall, cracked throughout from the sudden shock. A corner fell from the top; tons of steel and concrete dropped through the air like a diving bird, and struck the ground in a cloud of cement dust and debris.

"If you continue such ill-considered releases of power," called a voice from the hall, "it is only a matter of time before **_Akira_** reacts!" She whirled to see Jean there, watching her frailly from a bed.

"It's **_dangerous_** to expend that much energy at once," added Storm, in a chair hovering at Jean's side. Kurt was nowhere to be seen, and Kinuko smirked contemptuously.

"You are like that **_half-shattered moon_**," sighed Xavier, "floating in precarious equilibrium." He stepped up in front of the other two, walking with the aid of a cane. Kinuko barely even noticed that he had no wheelchair.

"Nice party you got there," Kinuko sneered.

"Prepare to strike together when I give the word!" Xavier called to the other two.

"Here's a present," Kinuko replied with a wickedly indifferent grin, "for our lovely reunion." In silent demonstration, a rough slab of reinforced concrete the size of a cement truck hovered menacingly in the air behind her with the demeanor of a cobra poised to strike.

"**_Haaaaii!_**" shouted Xavier, holding his free left hand forward. The power of the gestalt between the Professor, Storm, and Jean spiked exponentially, and guided by the most experienced of the three, the force flung Kinuko out the window and through the wall of a building across the street.

It was quickly shrouded in frost, as well, as ominous cracks formed throughout it.

"She came expecting friends, and got slapped instead," Kinuko could still hear Xavier comment. "How hurt she must be... yet hurt shall turn to anger, and that anger and hate shall crash upon us! We must endure it! Force her power to its apex!"

"Hahahahaha!" Kinuko answered hollowly from the building she had impacted as the supercooled structure began to crumble around her.

"How could you understand," she chuckled unevenly as the fractures multiplied through her own building and all those nearby, "what's happening inside of me!"

Kinuko felt the power rising and surging to new heights as her own body became brittle and was run through with cracks, and then let out an inhuman cry as she literally burst with an inconceivable energy, expanding to swallow everything, to freeze everything solid.

She woke groggily to a crash as her door burst open under the influence of Tetsuo's shoulder, but her wits were so addled that she wondered whether she had in fact awakened or gone to sleep. She could scarcely process a word Tetsuo said, or why she could see his breath, or why all the walls of her room were gleaming white. The trip to the infirmary was even more of a haze.

Between her delirium and sleep deprivation, it was hours before she could understand what they meant when they said that her core temperature had dropped to 30 degrees Celsius.

Tetsuo sat in the kitchen, brooding at the clock on the microwave as its digital display blinked to 6:30. The last few days, his sleep had been getting gradually worse, but now it seemed like an impossibility, so he stared at the clock, instead. He was finally starting to feel warm, although his nervous tension refused to go away; he couldn't claim to be entirely surprised by that, after the night from hell. Sometime in the wee hours, he had awakened, shuddering with cold and inexplicable terror, to the sound of a blood-curdling shriek from right across the hall—from Kinuko's room.

Without hesitation and without any extensive forethought, he had leapt out of bed and set his shoulder to Kinuko's door as soon as he saw the white billows of condensing water vapor spilling out from around it. Three tries and a bit of a bruise got the door open, and he rushed her to the infirmary in a haze of action. More than two hours later, as he sat in the dark, he was only just catching up with everything that had happened, himself.

Tetsuo had been quickly herded back out of the infirmary by a big blue apelike man once his part of the story was delivered, and he was questioned twice more by other Institute staff, as though they had expected his story to change. All he could get out of anyone was that Kinuko would be fine with some rest and some heat, and that the blue ape-man was Dr. Hank McCoy—or Beast.

"Hey, Doc," was his favored abbreviation, when he looked up at the sound of knuckles rapping against the frame of the kitchen door and found Beast there. Tetsuo rubbed at his eyes tiredly, casting another glance at the microwave's clock—6:40—and then back to the blue ape-man. "_Che_... so how's she doin'?"

"I am pleased to be able to tell you that your friend will be quite all right, with some more rest and warmth; she is thankfully out of the woods, so to speak. Although we still do not know what caused such an event, save for mutant powers."

"_Kuso_!" Tetsuo cursed, scowling and uneasily running a hand through his hair. "So there's some fucker goin'round fuckin' freezin' people now?"

Beast scowled at the boy's choice of words, and shook his head. "We know of only one mutant with such powers on this scale, and besides such a thing being quite out of character for him, he has a verified, airtight alibi. Unless there is some other active mutant of whom we know nothing, the most reasonable conclusion would seem to be that she was manifesting her **_own_** powers."

"Eeh? Aww, you guys ain't startin' this bullshit 'bout **_us_** havin' 'powers' again, areya?"

"It is **_not_**— ahem. It is nothing of the **_sort_**," Beast replied calmly, although he gave Tetsuo a sour look for his language. It was more for the sake of soothing Beast's own volatile temper; he knew better than to think a million sour looks would change the boy's ways. "If the Professor says you are mutants, then I certainly believe him, and recommend that you would do the same."

Beast sighed at the skeptical leer he received from Tetsuo by way of response, and added, "as was inscribed at the entrance to the Oracle at Delphi, Mister Usuda, _gnothi seauton_: know thyself! You can see for yourself that it would do me little good to deny what I am, and that much we have in common, even if my condition **_is_** more obvious."

Tetsuo glowered and ran a hand through his hair again. He was getting a serious headache and his nerves were still shot, and getting preached at by a pedantic blue gorilla was testing his limits.

"_Che_. Whatever, Doc. Y'can call me a fuckin' radioactive space alien, if it'll helpya sleep at night, but I ain't got no fuckin' powers, an' neither does Kinuko-kun. **_So_**, can I fuckin' go an' see'er, or what?"

"Yes, yes," Beast sighed, "very well. But try not to get her too excited just now. She needs rest, and whether you accept it or not, this apparant ability of hers is clearly ill-controlled."

"Sure, Doc," Tetsuo scoffed, grinning defiantly—and more than a little sarcastically—as he stood and began walking to the infirmary. "I'll try. But I can't promiseya nuthin', bein' such a fuckin' excitin' guy."

Kinuko was still in the cot where he had set her down when he arrived, and the sight of the pitiful condition she was in—pale and laying under heaps of sheets with the bearing of a tattered rag doll, an IV tubes running under her covers and monitor leads reaching out to express her condition in dubious lines and flashing numbers—knocked the sarcasm out of him like a slap in the face. She was curled up on her side with her back toward the door.

Quickly regaining his composure, he scowled, and stuck his trembling hands in his jacket pockets. Even after his near-death experience with Rogue the other night, he had kept his hands steady, if white-knuckled, and he was proud of that—but now, they refused to sit still, no matter what he did with them, and he could feel the tremors struggling to clamber up his arms and into his shoulders.

_Damnit, Kinuko-kun_, he thought, straining to resist the urge to pace around the room. _What's **happenin'** t'you?_

"_W-wak...ar...nai_..." she murmured, groggily slurred and indistinct with tremors, as though in response.

Tetsuo blinked, and rested a hand on Kinuko's arm delicately. "Wuwazzat?" he asked, leaning nearer and reflexively switching back to Japanese. "What'dja say, Kinuko-kun?"

"S-said I— don't know," she repeated sluggishly. "Don't know, Tetsuo-kun. What's happening— I don't know."

Tetsuo hesitated and drew a shaky hand from his pocket to run in through his hair, pausing uncertainly. _How th'hell'd she hear—_

"Not **_deaf_**, Tetsuo," Kinuko murmured bitterly.

"But I din't—" he began, then stopped; he jammed his hand back into his pocket and shook his head. "Nevermind, Kinuko-kun. Sorry, thought'cha were sleepin'."

Kinuko stayed silent for a moment, then made a drowsy scoffing sound. "Sleepin'," she grunted sarcastically in a half-whispered echo, as if the word itself was a tasteless joke.

"Well, I **_did_** wakeya up, an' after what happened, an' all—"

"Don't **_care_**," she interrupted in a low, mumbling tone. "Not sleep...ng **_ever_**, Tets...o-kun...**_never_**..." He stood and listened quietly as in the middle of Kinuko's objections, her voice grew softer and gradually faded into the incoherency of slumber.

Tetsuo stood at the closed door of Xavier's study and listened. He could just recognize the voices of Xavier and the redheaded Jean Gray, but it was difficult to tell what they were saying; the most he could make out was something about last night and Kinuko, discussed in tones of disagreement.

_Th'hell d'**they** know, **anyway**?_ He scowled at the door crossly, his hands jammed forcefully into his jacket pockets as he leaned against the wall. His head was full of cotton; he felt like his stomach would have crawled up his throat, if it hadn't been blocked by his pounding heart. For a few days already, he hadn't felt completely himself, but now he felt skittish, dazed, depressed—sick.

Of course, he would never tell that to Xavier or his giant blue quack, as he described Beast to himself.

"You're sure about this, Professor?" One of the double doors had swung quietly open, and Jean had paused just inside.

"Only as much so as we can be, in these circumstances," he answered kindly. "But I will certainly keep your concerns in mind, Jean."

She nodded and turned to leave. In passing, she smiled reassurinigly, and that look of consolation stung Tetsuo so that he could only give her an acerbic glower and make a vague scoffing sound. The way her expression failed to falter in response was infuriating.

_Tch. Keep outta my fuckin' head,_ he thought bitterly, feeling a cagey paranoia bubbling up from his queasy gut.

"Thank you for being so punctual, Tetsuo," said Xavier from beyond his desk, with the demeanor of a studious practitioner of superhuman patience. "Please, come in."

Tetsuo entered the study, at once visibly sullen and high-strung. The presence of the doctor—the one he regarded as the "giant blue quack"—as well as the professor set him that much more on edge. He glanced warily from one to the other and back again, half expecting a solitary, stark lamp to descend from the ceiling, and the interrogation to begin. He was in such a state of distracted agitation that he scarcely noticed the attitudes of the two authority figures, and misunderstood what he was aware of: Beast's discomfort and Xavier's concern, he took, respectively, for guilty apprehension and condescension.

"You can relax, Tetsuo," Xavier offered, indicating a seat. "I did not ask you here to grill you for answers; there's no need to be jumpy."

"**_Tch_**. I ain't **_jumpy_**, Destro."

"Be that as it may, I wanted to speak with you out of concern for your friend Kinuko." Xavier frowned sympathetically; it was a blessing that he had not been required to breach such subjects with his students at the Institute. "When you brought Kinuko into the infirmary last night, we took the opportunity to perform some blood tests; we have been concerned for some time by her behavior and the disrupted impressions Jean and myself have sensed from her."

"What'cha sayin', Wheels? Could'ja cut t'tha chase, y'think?" Tetsuo scowled, getting edgier and more wary as the excuses dragged on.

Xavier sighed and turned his eyes to Beast.

"If you would, Henry."

"Yes, well," Beast began. "To 'cut to the chase,' as you asked, we found faint traces of dextroamphetamine, corresponding to perhaps a week's disuse."

"Th'hell're you sayin'?" Tetsuo glowered suspiciously. "Use some fuckin' normal-size words."

Beast grimaced irritably at the boy's distasteful response. "Dextroamphetamine is also known as Dexedrine—or 'speed,' in street vernacular—and what seems to be plaguing your friend is withdrawal, after an extended period of dependency. She has been showing such symptoms as irritability, depression, extended but disturbed sleep, confusion—"

"Tch- oi, this's bullshit!"

"Tetsuo—" Xavier began.

"Bullshit!" he repeated, standing and punching the top of Xavier's desk, leaning forward aggressively and waving an arm at Beast. "Tell this fuckin' quack he's full'a shit, willya? I ain't gonna sit here an' listen'a this crap! _Kuso!_"

Beast was on his feet quickly, but paused when Xavier lifted a hand and gently waved him back into his seat.

"Please **_calm_** yourself, Tetsuo. I have complete faith in Doctor McCoy's abilities, and while I understand that this is troubling—"

"**_Che!_** Y'don't understand a goddamn thing!" Tetsuo interrupted, his voice uncharacteristically shrill with agitation, and turned to storm out of the study.

"Tetsuo, wait!" Xavier called after him, and sighed when the youth's only response was a single expressive finger displayed over his should as he passed through the open door.

"Should we…?" Beast began, standing again and looking to Xavier.

"Yes, we should follow him. I know just where he is headed, and I believe he will regret his impassioned haste most of all."

Beast smiled wanly, and moved to push Xavier's wheelchair, heading toward the infirmary. "Ahh, Sophocles—'you clearly hate to yield, but you will regret it when your anger has passed,' hmm?"

"Kinuko-kun!" Tetsuo huffed, stepping dazedly into the infirmary. "Oi, **_Kinuko-kun!_**"

"Mwh?" she mumbled drowsily, tentatively raising herself up on her elbows, and squinted blearily at him. "Whach' shout'ng for?"

Tetsuo stared at her for a second, not sure what he was expecting her to do or say, and then started treading back and forth at the side of her sickbed, running a hand through his hair.

"Shit, Kinuko-kun," he muttered in Japanese, "y'don't even know what they been sayin', doya? These fuckin' creeps're tryin'a tell me you've been doin' **_speed_** now! Idunno what th'fuck they're planning, but they gotta be up ta—"

He fell silent as he was turned in the middle of pacing, and caught of glimpse of the clear expression of shame, all the more shocking in contrast to the pallid, lifeless stares of recent days. Whatever plan he had been hatching, whatever suspicions he had entertained, were vanished without a trace. He stared at her for a string of unending seconds before he could bring himself to complete the inescapably obvious thought.

"You **_were_** doin' speed."

"Tetsuo-kun," she began, raggedly.

"You were doin' fuckin' speed."

"Listen, Tetsuo-kun," she tried again, shaking her head.

"Shuttup!" Tetsuo growled. "You were fuckin' doin' **_speed_**, Kinuko!"

He glared at her in a long moment of mutual silence; words spun about in his head, stripped of meaning by their insignificance next to what he needed to express.

"**_DAMNIT!_**" he finally concluded and spun about. The crash of the door against the wall when he kicked it open stung his ears and rattled in his head, but it was satisfying, and it drowned out the sound of Kinuko calling his name from the infirmary.

Beast and Xavier could only guess what might have happened when they arrived to find Kinuko sobbing into her pillow.


End file.
